


All's Fair

by fadingtales



Series: All's Fair In Love And War [2]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadingtales/pseuds/fadingtales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was Ares. Reckless, cruel, and careless of the fates of men under his command. He was the God of War, but it was violence that ruled him. He lived for it, thirsted for it. Hungered for the warrior's glory that could only be achieved in battle and through sweat and blood. And every time he stepped into the ring, she held her breath. Logic told her that he was immortal and invulnerable, but that was no quite true. Even gods can be wounded. The proof lies in the scars he's left on her heart. For how can the Goddess of Wisdom be so foolish as to fall in love with the God of War?</p><p>Caroline as Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Klaus as Ares, God of War. Klaroline, Greek Gods AU. !DISCONTINUED! Please see last chapter for author's note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Character/Gods Counterpart Reference List:
> 
> Ares - Klaus  
> Athena - Caroline  
> Aphrodite - Katherine  
> Dionysus - Damon  
> Hermes - Matt  
> Diomedes - Stefan  
> Poseidon - Elijah  
> Persephone - Bonnie  
> Hades - Alaric

The humans get it wrong. Aphrodite is just as capable of being cunning as Athena is to be vain. They're gods, but in no way are they the cookie cutter creatures that men make them out to be. If anything, with all their powers they're ever more flawed, more complicated.

She is not a paradigm of virtue. Far from it. And it's one of those times when she was growing increasingly sick of being put on a pedestal as the pillar of reason and logic that Aphrodite taunts her with the most delicious of schemes.

For one glorious night they will each shed the weight of their reputations and become somebody else.

Of course, habit is difficult to shake off, even if the temptation is great, and so Athena reasons with her sister. Picking apart the scheme, pointing out the flaws of her plan, the folly of it. But Aphrodite is a temptress and she's good at what she does.

"What is the harm in one night? Nothing that can be done in one night is irreversible or cannot become forgotten by dawn."

Athena had scoffed. "Entire cities can be destroyed in a night," she drawls.

"Remember what happened to Pompeii?"

"Well that's what happens when you anger Hades. Persephone should've seen it coming," Aphrodite answers flippantly.

"How was she supposed to foresee that he would burn down an entire city?" Athena argues.

Aphrodite rolls her eyes and flips her lovely dark curls over her shoulder and tries a new tactic.

"Enough about other people's affairs! What about your own? Aren't you sick of them calling you the Virgin Goddess?" she taunts, arching her eyebrows up in that signature condescending manner of hers.

Athena opens her mouth in protest, but Aphrodite interrupts with a melodramatic sigh. The Goddess of Love and Beauty pushes herself off the luxurious velvet divan upon which she lounged to approach her sister.

"Let loose for one night, Athena. No one even has to know."

Aphrodite smiles a beguiling smile before procuring a mask from behind her back. She holds it out to Athena like how one would dangle bait before a prey.

"Besides... don't you want an excuse to visit your mortal?"

Aphrodite smirks knowing full well about Athena's favoritism towards a certain Greek human.

"I hear he'll be in Athens tonight for the festivities. Along with all your other boys. Maybe you should steal a dance... or a kiss."

Athena blushes a deep red and wrings her hands. "They're not my boys," she protests.

Aphrodite rolls her eyes.

"Come on, Athena. You know you want to," Aphrodite whispers as she circles her sister.

Athena wrestles with contradicting emotions as she looks from the lovely mask made of ivory to her sister.

"Why do you care so much whether or not I go?" she questions suspiciously.

Aphrodite was trying way too hard and usually that means she was up to something.

"Maybe I just want to see you drop that superior act of yours and go wild," Aphrodite shrugs.

Athena's is not convinced by her doe eyes and pouty lips.

"There's something you want out of this."

Aphrodite presses a hand to her chest and her face contorts into an expression of appall.

"You wound me, Athena. Just because we've had our differences doesn't mean I'm out to get you. It truly hurts me that you would think I have ulterior motives that would harm you."

"Maybe not to harm me, but there are ulterior motives I'm sure. I speak from experience."

"Alright! So I lied," Aphrodite admits, groaning. "I need you to switch places with me because there's somebody I'm trying to avoid at the festivities tonight and I need somebody to distract him while I meet with my new lover."

"Of course you do."

Athena is not surprised. Aphrodite was constantly stringing men along. She was a fickle lover and was always causing trouble. The number of lovers her sister has probably outnumbered the number of snakes on Medusa's head. Often times Athena questions how they could be related when Aphrodite is so impulsive and reckless in her affairs.

"This person you are avoiding... it's not Dionysus is it?"

Aphrodite's face takes on a look of distaste at the mention of the God of Wine.

"I am so over that sorry excuse for a god. And... I think I've fallen in love. And I must see him or I shall surely die!"

The raven haired goddess saunters back to her divan and sprawls across the cushions, a hand pressed to her forehead in a satirical expression of devastation.

As usual Aphrodite is overly dramatic and Athena struggles to refrain from laughing.

"Alright, alright," Athena soothes, even as she crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. "I guess... there won't be in harm in showing up..."

Aphrodite peeks through her fingers, a smile already on her lips, sensing her victory within grasp.

"I'm just... I'm just not comfortable about this whole... switching thing," Athena gestures between the two of them. "No one is going to believe that I am, well...you."

"Well we're going to have to change that aren't we?"

With deft hands she plucks the helmet off of Athena's head, tossing it carelessly behind her.

"Hey!" Athena complains, her hands on her hips.

"You're not going need a helmet," Aphrodite drawls. "You're going to a party not war."

Without another word she drags her sister over to her wall of gilded mirrors, grinning a grin that was brighter than a thousand of Apollo's suns.

Aphrodite claps her hand together in excitement.

"This is the most important part, Athena. It's not just about what you're going to wear. It's about what you are going to take off," Aphrodite smiles mischievously at her, waggling her eyebrows.

Athena laughs. Aphrodite's delight is infectious and she finds herself smiling as they rummaged through Aphrodite's immense wardrobe of silken dresses.

xxx

He didn't normally do festivities. That was Dionysus's domain. His was war, violence and chaos. Three things the mortal world easily provided. Alas, a rare period of peace was upon them and he found that he had to resort to Pentathlon competitions and the like to provide his entertainment. But he can watch only for so long before feeling the call of the arena, the itch to partake in the violence himself. He was going mad with idleness.

Dionysus laughs at him over his ever present goblet of wine.

"You are coming, Ares. I will not take no for an answer," Dionysus declares as he passes his friend a goblet of wine. "It'll be fun! I'm tired of watching you pacing about. You're going to wear a hole in the ground. And besides there will be wine and women-"

"Isn't that always the case with you?" Ares interjects with an eyeroll.

"Beauties from across the land!" Dionysus continues ignoring the interruption.

Ares pauses in his pacing to turn and face his friend with a knowing smirk.

"I heard Aphrodite herself will be making a presence. Aren't you two-"

The God of Wine waves his hand dismissively.

"Aphrodite is a nothing more than a varnished vase. All surface beauty, but hallow inside," Dionysus answers disparagingly as he reaches for the beaker of wine.

Ares laughs and clasps his on the shoulder.

"She break your heart, mate? Well, they say there's always more fish in the sea. As to how true that is, you'd have to ask Poseidon."

Dionysus shoves away his hand and gulps down his wine.

"I don't care about what's-her-face. Her sister is prettier anyways."

Ares snorts and quirks his eyebrow.

"You mean Athena? The Virgin Goddess?"

Dionysus laughs. "She is no virgin, I assure you. Although she was one for quite a while, longer than I thought possible with a face like hers. She's not Aphrodite's sister for nothing. Even if they are about as similar as day and night."

"Yes, I doubt it was Aphrodite that came up with that formation that sunk my Thracian warships in the Persian sea."

Dionysus laughs again. "You need to let that go, Ares. What is it that they say? All is fair in love and war."

"You must speak from experience of the former rather than the latter." Ares quips.

"What is a woman, goddess or not, doing meddling in the affairs of the military anyways?"

"She would skin you alive if she heard that."

"If she was a true warrior she would come and meet me face-to-face in battle instead of playing puppet master behind the scenes," he drawls disdainfully.

"I forget that you have not met either of them," Dionysus muses thoughtfully.

"Perhaps that's for the best. I can only imagine what would happen should you two meet," Dionysus intones seriously, as he finishes his wine.

When his friend reaches for yet another beaker, Ares intercepts.

"I think that's enough, my friend. Let's not get too wasted before the party."

Dionysus grins like a cat who ate the canary.

"So you're coming?"

Before he can properly answer, Dionysus slaps his face with both hands and plants a kiss on his forehead despite Ares's complaints.

Dionysus ignores him and goes on to rambling on about how it would be a night he wouldn't forget and boasting of the attendance of all of Greece's mightiest warriors for him to test his strength with.

Ares sighs and wonders if he had just let himself be played by the God of Wine.

xxx

Aphrodite had been misinformed. Or rather she probably just plainly lied, Athena thinks scathingly.

Diomedes was not there. And neither was Achilles or Odysseus. None of her great warriors were. False advertisement should be a crime punishable by the gods and she would have been happy to oblige in dealing out the punishment.

It's been a long while since she had last been in Argos and she has started missing her favorite champion. His absence would cloud her level of enjoyment for the rest of the evening.

She had been ready to leave when a hand grabs hers. She rolls her eyes and turns, expecting it to be one of Aphrodite's discarded lovers hoping to rekindle some romance. She had shooed away plenty in the past hour already. Instead she found herself staring into a pair of very familiar blue eyes.

"Herm-hermit! Please remove your hand, sir," she stutters.

She silently curses herself for that pathetic cover up. She's had one too many cups of wine and her mental faculties were failing her. She was going to need all of her wits to get out of this one. Then again, perhaps he had too much to drink as well. Maybe it didn't sound as horrible aloud as it did in her head.

The messenger of the gods quirks an eyebrow at her, a bemused smile curving his lips.

"Hermit? Now that's a little insulting. I know you can do better than that, Athena."

So much for that optimistic thought.

Perhaps if she kept denying it he'll go away. She still had her mask on after all.

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are talking about. I think you got the wrong person," she lies in a pitchy voice.

Hermes laughs. "I know it's you, Athena. You cannot fool me. Now will you take off that ridiculous mask and speak to me normally?"

She sighs and lifts her mask. "How did you figure it out?"

She had not meant to run into another Olympian. Doing so could unravel everything. She was suppose to be escaping that life tonight, and it was rather embarrassing if he asked her why she was wearing Aphrodite's dress and pretending to be someone else.

"I have my ways. I wouldn't be a very good messenger if I cannot find the correct persons to deliver my messages." He gives her a quick look over and wrinkles his eyebrows. "Why are you wearing Aphrodite's dress?"

Once again she curses loudly in her head. Has he suddenly developed mind reading powers now too?

"It's none of your business," she snaps, blushing bright red. Tonight was so not turning out the way she had thought.

Hermes raises his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "My apologies. But I did not mean any offense."

She rolls her eyes as he returns his hands to his side once more.

"It suits you. I think you look lovely," he says sincerely.

He flashes her a genuine smile and she can't stay mad at him.

Hermes had always been a good friend of hers. He was clever and witty and most of all he knew when to keep his nose out of other's affairs. A trait a majority of the residents of Olympus sorely lacked.

"So I'm guessing you have a message for me?" she quirks her eyebrow at him, extending her hand out with palms up expectantly.

He chuckles as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the little scroll of parchment.

"From the son of Argos."

She blinks at him in surprise. Her heartbeat increases instinctively at the thought. But why would Diomedes be sending her a message?

It's only when she opens up the scroll and reads the message does she find out the answer to her own question. It was not from Diomedes at all. It was from Tydeus, his father. She struggles to keep the disappointment from showing on her face.

"What does it say?" Hermes inquires.

Athena shakes her head as she scans the page. Tydeus's words were cryptic and her head was too heavy with wine to make clear their meaning.

"Something about the Trojans. He rambles. I will have to decipher it in the morning when my head is clearer. I'm not in the right mind to be of any good counsel tonight. What does Dionysus puts in the drinks anyways?" she sighs.

Hermes laughs at that. "I think I'm beginning to understand the reason for your attire. It must be tiring to constantly heed the mind's words of wisdom and deny your heart's content."

Of course Hermes would figure her out. He was always the most observant of the gods.

"Yes, but perhaps it's about time I start cleaning the wax out of my ears and listen to logic again. I think I might retire early."

"You're leaving already? It's not because of your arch-nemesis is it?" he teases.

Athena stops and her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Hermes smiles mischievously. "Did you not know that the Ares is here? He's been making fools out of all the warriors that dare challenge him over at the amphitheatre."

Athena's mouth opens in shock. She has long had a rivalry of sorts with the God of War, but she had never actually laid eyes on him. To be quite honest she thought him a mere brute with a thirst for blood.

She's been avoiding the tournament all night because she had promised to help Aphrodite with her distraction, but now that she knew that Ares was there she couldn't help be feel like tempting fate.

Logic told her that going to watch him would only result in disaster, but her curiosity got the best of her.

xxx

He would have to make Dionysus swallow his tongue the next time they see one another.

Ares finds himself vastly disappointed with the turnout. Were all the Grecian warriors actually just babes whose mouths still stunk of their mother's milk?

He easily disposed of all his challengers and was ready to retire with a large amount of mead when an Athenian youth steps up to the plate.

He was young and obviously green, looking to impress his peers and the many lovely ladies that were watching. Ares had scoffed and rejected the challenge. He did not make a sport out of beating children.

Of course the Athenian could not tolerate the insult of such a rejection and struck him from behind as he was leaving. If there's anything Ares hated most it was such underhanded moves. Obviously the boy had to be taught a lesson.

He had just finished doing just that when he hears the biting critique and dismemberment of his reputation by the spectators.

"So that's the great Ares, God of War? Pathetic. This whole thing is a charade!"

The acidic words raked his nerves. He turns his attention to the rows of seats, ready to skewer whomever dared mock his victory. He pushes his way through the flock of onlookers in search for the instigator. He makes his way towards the nucleus of the crowd and to his surprise he discovers that the voice of the prime instigator belonged to of all things a girl.

A beautiful girl at that. At least from what he can see. Her face was obscured by a mask, but the golden dress that clung to her curves hid much less and he got an eyeful of smooth, porcelain skin.

She pauses in her speech about how his footwork needed more practice when she notices the crowd parting for him to approach.

Rather than cowering in fear as she should the girl had the gall to laugh. Her head tilts a little to the side in bemusement and he can guess that she was smirking from behind her mask. All things that only made his blood boil hotter.

xxx

The tournament, if it could be called that, was pathetic at best. There wasn't even a pretense of an even playing field.

The fights grew increasingly boring as she watched the rather handsome Ares dispatch man after man. He was indeed the God of War and she would have admired his prowess had he been less ruthless with his adversaries. He played with his opponents, relishing in their defeat more than necessary.

You'd think he'd be as bored of fighting them as she was of watching them, but no. Needless to say it quickly grew distasteful in her eyes.

After a particularly brutal defeat of a young Athenian, she couldn't hold her tongue any longer and quite loudly proclaim to her fellow audience what a joke the entire challenge was. The wine had loosen up many tongues, not just her own, and other joined in her critique. It also didn't hurt that the men in the audience were quick to agree to the words of the beautiful maiden in their midst. Soon she's got a whole crowd of spectators clamoring boos at the arena.

Thinking back it was probably not exactly the wisest thing to do, especially when it earns her the attention of the very hotheaded and ruthless God of War.

"Excuse me?"

His voice is a growl as he marches up the stone steps towards her.

"Are you laughing at me?"

The way he was looking at her made her wish she had not allowed Aphrodite to dress her. She was too used to the heavy weight of helmet and armor that Aphrodite's sheer, diaphanous dress left her feeling dizzy with lightness. A feeling she had relished. She had spent hours prior to the start of the festivities marveling at her reflection in the mirror. Aphrodite had worked her magic and she felt transformed. But now with his hot gaze raking over her body, she felt quite naked and subconscious. Still she stood her ground.

"Yes. I am," she replies cattily. "That was a poor show of sportsmanship. And you need more work on your skills with the sword."

His handsome face screws up in a frown.

"Were you even watching? I desecrated them," he points out, gesturing with his hand to all of his fallen, bloody and bruised opponents.

"You were sloppy," she says with unconcealed scorn.

There were multiple times when he left his whole right side exposed.

"And it wasn't even a fair fight. You were no more than a bully picking on weaker opponents to boost your ego."

"I will not tolerate criticisms from a little girl. Especially from one that hides her face," he snarls. "Take off your mask," he demands.

She scoffs at his demand and rather than obey she marches right up to him, her hands on her hips.

"I may be a woman," Athena corrects, "but anyone with eyes could see that if any of the warriors tonight were faster or smarter there would have been quite a few more dents in your armor and a couple more cuts and bruises. You were lucky tonight."

He'd be struck by how lovely she is if he was not so distracted by how infuriated he was by her words.

"Do you know who you are speaking to? I am the God of War."

Before she could point out how little that impressed her, the host of all this celebration drunkenly stumbles to Ares's side. Athena's hand instinctively touches the mask covering her face, making sure that it's still there. The last thing she needed was Dionysus to recognize her.

"Ares! You fiend! What are you doing beating up all of my guests? How many times do I have to tell you? It's a party not a brawl!"

Athena panics for just a moment and then she feels Hermes's hand on her elbow. Quickly the two of them takes advantage of the distraction to disappear into the crowd. When Ares had finally been able to shake the drunken Dionysus off of himself she was already gone.

"Where did she go?"

"Who?" Dionysus hiccups.

"The viper in the mask!" Ares screams. "Where is she?"

His question falls on deaf ears as Dionysus's attention had already been stolen away by a pair of voluptuous maidens.

He scans the crowd again for a sign of the masked girl, but to no avail.

Before his anger could be rekindled by the memories of her words, Dionysus once again appears by his side and drags him away to placate him with wine.

xxx

Only once she's put a good amount of distance between herself and the Gods of War and Wine does she allow herself to put her guard down. Now that she was safely far away from the angry brute she lets out a small giggle, recalling the look on Ares's face.

"You're drunk," Hermes smiles.

She merely nods, her giggles having turned into full out bellows of laughter hindering her from making coherent forms of speech.

Soon she has to rest her back against a pillar to keep from falling, that was how hard she was laughing. Hermes merely watches her with amusement.

It seemed like the full effects of all of Dionysus's wine was finally getting to her. If somebody asked her what two plus two was at the moment she'd probably tell them it equaled cow.

Music starts somewhere nearby and she's fraught with the sudden urge to dance. Her body feels restless and her feet were already tapping in time with the music.

"Let's dance," she announces.

Hermes chuckles and shakes his head. "I'm good, but you go."

She pouts, but doesn't bother trying to argue with him. The music is already luring her away.

Somehow, even despite her intoxication, her body remembered the steps and her feet barely touched the ground as she moved to the rhythm of the music.

xxx

Dionysus has once again abandoned him and he's forced to find his own form of entertainment. Still his thoughts continue to dwell on that infuriating girl from the arena. No one person has ever vexed him so other than the famed Athena.

He's trying to enjoy the company of a rather well-endowed mortal while nursing a cup of Dionysus's exceptional wine when he hears the music. He watches the dancers for a moment until he recognizes a very familiar figure in the foray of undulating bodies.

He smirks when he is finally able to place her.

She's a golden beacon amongst the jostle of the guests in various masks. They revolve around her as if she were the sun. The ardent eyes of the adoring spectators follow her every gesture.

"My gods," somebody breathes. "I think I've just fallen in love. If that isn't Aphrodite dancing then I'm a monkey's uncle."

And the puzzle clicks together.

"Aphrodite," he mutters.

Of course. It seemed that this pair of sisters was destined to be a thorn in his side.

Her movements were graceful and bewitching. It almost reminded him of the elegant control of a skilled swordsman. He would have admitted to being impressed if he didn't hate her so much.

In his book, Aphrodite has made far too many offenses. It's about time, he thinks, that Goddess of Love becomes the scorned lover. He may be an expert on the art of war, but that didn't mean the exquisite art of seduction escaped him.

He grins as he passes by a vendor selling bronze masks and procures himself one. Placing it over his face he joins the jostling bodies, making his way to its center.

She's too enthralled by the music that she doesn't notice his approach. His hand darts out, take hold of hers and with a forceful yank he pulls her to him. A gasp escapes her when he catches her in midair, sweeping her right off her feet. For a moment their eyes lock together and the rest of the world disappears.

Finally after a moment she seemed to snap out of her trance and struggles out of his hold. He smiles behind his mask as he sets her back down.

She backs a little away from him. Her heart is pounding away in her chest so hard she's afraid her ribcage would split apart from the impact.

He can see her eyes watching him from behind her mask, measuring him up.

The music picks up again the crowd forces them to move. She watches him curiously in silence as they circle one another.

The steps of the music bring them back again only to pull them away in the next moment. Like tides being pulled by the moon.

"Who are you?" She asks as she spins away.

When they come back together again he whispers into her ear, "Whoever you want me to be."

She can tell from the arrogant way he holds himself that he was smirking behind the mask.

xxx

The God of War's fascination with the masked Athena doesn't escape his notice. Hermes watches as Ares slips on the mask and makes his way towards the spinning goddess.

He thinks to intervene as anything the God of War has planned cannot be anything good, but when he makes a move to intercept Ares a hand stops him.

"Dionysus."

"Hello, Hermes," the God of Wine smiles. "Enjoying the party?"

Hermes glances at the multitude of drunken and inebriated mortals around him and then back at the dark haired God.

"Obviously not as much as some."

Dionysus laughs in reply. They both turn their attentions back to the twirling Athena and the approaching Ares.

"More of your handiwork," Hermes point out. "Shouldn't you stop him? This will only end in disaster."

"Awfully protective of young Athena, aren't you?" Dionysus drawls, raising his eyebrow at his companion.

"You're the one that intercepted back at the amphitheatre," Hermes retorts.

"I didn't want any bloodshed," he shrugs. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Hermes scoffs and takes a long drink out of his cup.

Dionysus looks over at his companion and smirks. "Why? Are you jealous? We both know you have a weak spot for young Athena."

"She's like a sister," Hermes answers plainly, not fazed by the God of Wine's provocation. "And Athena has too many men in her lives already. I don't like getting entangled into such complicated business. I prefer my life of simplicity."

"Boring," Dionysus sing-songs.

Hermes laughs. When he turns his attention back to Ares, he realizes that Dionysus had succeeded in distracting him. The God of War had already entered the dance floor.

He could swear that at that moment when Ares had caught Athena in midair, the Fates themselves held their breath. This was the pivotal moment when everything changes and the dominos began to fall.

Hermes sighs.

"I hope you don't regret not interfering, Dionysus. I have a bad feeling about this."

This time Dionysus chuckles and shakes his head.

"Oh ye of little faith! I believe in happy endings."

"We're Greeks," Hermes points out. "We're not known for comedies. We're the tragic sort."

xxx

There was something about him that drew her to him. She couldn't quite place her finger on it, but it was a déjà vu type of feeling. As if she's met him before. It nagged at her in the recesses of her brain.

So when he extended his hand towards her once the music stopped she took it. Her curiosity got the best of her.

They somehow find themselves in one of Dionysus's empty chambers and something tells Athena that she should be more cautious, but the potency of Dionysus's wine remained as strong as ever, leaving an ever pleasant buzz in her head.

He was surprised by her. He had imagined Aphrodite a rather vapid and shallow creature. What had Dionysus called her? A vanished vase?

But for everything he said she would always have a witty counter, even though he can tell she had too much to drink. She likes rambling and he has to fight the urge to kiss her just to get her to shut up about the monetary policies in Thrace.

"I'm talking too much aren't I? I do that sometimes," she laughs shaking her head.

"You must be bored."

Not at all what he expected the Goddess of Love to be. He had expected sultry and sensual, dripping with sex appeal and mind games. Instead he finds her utterly candid. There was an aspect of innocence to her that he did not foresee, almost to the point of being clumsy. There was something utterly genuine about her that he finds immensely attractive.

"I think I can conjure up some alternative activities we can both enjoy..."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," her voice drips with sarcasm. She laughs again and tosses her hair. It glints prettily in the moonlight like a golden cascade.

His finger trails down her arms, his masked face close to hers. When his hand snakes it way around her waist she pulls away coyly.

"You're being a tease," he groans.

She tilts her head to the side and he can tell that she's smiling the most beguiling smile behind that mask and he's filled with the urge to kiss her again. If only that pesky mask was out of the way.

"Me?" she protests. "You're the one who won't tell me who you are."

"I'll take my mask off if you take off yours."

He tries to reach for it, but once again she pulls away, mischief in her eyes. A laugh like bells echoes in his ears. Strange how he had approached her as the seducer, but he's finding himself being the one seduced.

Not for the first time tonight, he wonders if he had underestimated her.

"I'd prefer it... if you took something else off," she says casually as her hands smoothes over his chest. Reaching around his shoulders she unclasps his cape.

He smiles when it falls to the floor. His eyes follow her hands as they reach for the buckles on his breastplate.

"Now how about this armor? I do admire it so. It looks to be made by Hephaestus himself. Although the gold inlay is a bit vain, don't you think?"

She goes about undoing the straps, letting it drop to the floor and leaving his muscular chest bare.

He grins behind his mask and strokes her chin, tilting it up so he can look into her eyes.

"You're not what I expected."

"Maybe because I'm not myself today," she answers.

"And who are you usually?"

"Oh the very paradigm of virtue," she quips. "But virtue is overrated."

"That it is..."

She turns and walks towards the immense bed, waggling a come hither gesture with her hand in his direction.

He walks over to her, placing his hands on either side of her head on the bed as she leans back.

"I think you're overdressed," he points out.

"I think you might be right," she replies.

He slips her dress off a shoulder and she undos the belt buckle around his waist. Once divulged of their clothing, she slips from under him, crawling away to the opposite side of the bed.

He quickly follows, catching her ankle and pulling her back, climbing on top of her.

She writhes underneath him. His hand traces the curves of her body, eliciting the loveliest of sounds. She arches her neck, exposing beautiful expanse of skin that he longed to touch. His hand strokes the pulse at her throat and once again the urge to remove their masks is great.

She proves to be difficult and scurries away from his touches. But her first mistake was turning her back on him. He grabs her by the waist and buries his face in the crook of her neck. His nose assailed by the scent of her. Something akin to olives and lilies. A strange pairing, but she was an enigma of a maiden.

He pauses at her lower back, his hand tracing over what looks like a tattoo of an owl in mid-flight across the otherwise smooth, unmarked skin.

Before he can accurately study the picture, she had turned in his embrace and reversed their position. She hovers above him, her long legs wrapped around his midsection, no longer playing hard to get. Her fingers rakes down his chest and rotates her hips in a deliciously wicked way, earning a groan from his lips. It's a mixture of pain and pleasure.

When he tries to sit up she pushes him back down. Taking his hands in hers she places one on her hip and the other on her breast. He takes a sharp intake of breath when she adjusts her seat and brushes against his harden arousal sending pinpricks of agonizing pleasure through his body. The heat between them rivals the fires of Hades. His hand drops to stroke the flat of her stomach. Her back arches with his touch, her hand gripping his shoulders.

He takes back control then, sitting up and hitching her more securely onto his lap. She lets out another gasp when he enters her without preamble.

They don't bother with unnecessary words and they are not sweet nor are they gentle. Together they rock their bodies in rhythm. Her hands strokes and massages his muscles before tangling themselves in his hair. His goes about finding places that makes her gasp, places that makes her moan, exploring every inch of her body save the one obscured by the mask.

He longs to rip it off and kiss those lips hidden away by the artificial ivory face. But every time he tries she'd find some way to distract him and remove his hands. And she's good at her distractions so he lets her.

They tumble about, each scrambling for dominance. Sometimes it ends with him winning, other times not. Like the dance they danced, it's a series of tug-of-war, push and pull, but in the end they come together as one.

They collapse in a sweaty mess. Arms, legs and sheets tangled around them.

xxx

She waits until his breathing becomes slow and steady before cautiously opening one eye. He's fast asleep, his arm draped around her midsection. She watches him breathing for a while. He snores a little and she finds it laughable.

Who is he?

The niggling of familiarity still clings to the back of her mind. Her curiosity once again takes hold and against her better judgment she reaches her hand over to lift off his mask. In one delicate sweep the mask is off, leaving his face naked and bare in the flickering candlelight. That's when she comes into a terrified realization that she recognizes it.

Ares.

She scrambles from the bed in realization that she had the God of War beside her. He starts stirring and she silently curses her clumsiness. Swiftly she picks up her scattered clothing and slips through the billowing curtains, stealing away into the night.

xxx

He wakes when he feels the heat disappear from his arms. He opens his eyes and manages to catch only a shadowy figure disappearing through the curtains. His mask lies besides him and he reaches to touch his own face in realization.

The billowing movements of the silk curtain is the only thing that showed evidence that she was ever there at all.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character/Gods Counterpart Reference List:
> 
> Ares - Klaus  
> Athena - Caroline  
> Aphrodite - Katherine  
> Dionysus - Damon  
> Hermes - Matt  
> Diomedes - Stefan  
> Poseidon - Elijah  
> Persephone - Bonnie  
> Hades – Alaric
> 
> A/N: Special thanks to skerdypants for being a wonderful beta! I apologize for the length of time it took for this chapter to get posted. I was having a difficult time keeping everyone in character while still taking creative liberties with their greek gods counterpart. After a lot of work and once again from the help of the awesome skerdypants, I am proud to present you with Part II. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

Sitting up abruptly and carelessly winding the sheets around his waist, he dashes in the direction of which she disappeared. He runs through the deserted hallways, passing several passed out guests, but it was too late. He waited too long and she was gone. That's when he sees it. The flash of golden locks in the moonlight.

xxx

Her head was pounding; a pulse at her temples hammers away, making her migraine worse. She shouldn't have indulged in so much wine.

She reaches her hand up to rub her temples when another hand grabs her wrist, pulling her into an abrupt stop.

She lets out a small gasp and whips around to see the God of War holding onto her wrist. His other hand is barely holding up the sheets wrapped carelessly around his hips. Not that she's noticing particularly.

"What's your hurry?"

She yanks her hand out of his, thankful that she still had her mask on. It wouldn't do if after all this work, she reveals her identity now.

"The party is over. I'm going home," she answers frigidly.

"You took my mask off while I was asleep."

She quirks an eyebrow behind the mask.

"It... fell off," she answers carefully.

He snorts. "You're a horrible liar. Has anyone told you that?"

He's haughty and it grates her nerves. She's not in the mood for dealing with temperamental males.

"I'm tired," she complains. "Will you just... go away?"

The night is slowly brightening into dawn, and she's quite ready to forget its follies. She tries making a run for it, but he's quick to block her path.

"Not so fast."

She's almost impressed by how he manages to be so agile, what with all those sheets about his legs. He catches her staring and she quickly averts her eyes. It wouldn't do for her to stroke his vanity.

Too late, she realizes, when she sees the mischief dancing in his eyes.

"You've suddenly grown cold. I don't recall this coldness earlier in the bedroom."

Again, she has to train her voice to have no emotion.

"That's before I knew who you were."

He raises a quizzical eyebrow at her.

"Well, that's not fair. You know who I am, but I don't get to know who you are."

"Whoever said I had to be fair?" she shoots back.

He ignores her, seemingly lost in his own musings. "Well, I'm not being completely truthful. I'm not entirely ignorant as to be unable to guess who you are..."

He watches her expectantly. A small smile plays at his lips, and she has to work extra hard to hide her emotions this time. Any indication otherwise could goad him on, and she needs this little guessing game to stop.

"Alas, you will never know!"

"Why so mysterious? I already know you... in the most carnal of manners." He says, contemplating her with amusement. "Are you afraid of me?"

"I am not," she protests. "You're just being incredibly annoying."

She turns a little too quickly and the edge of her skirt snags, sending her tumbling. If it weren't for his quick reflexes, she would have been taking a dip in the icy cold pond out in Dionysus's backyard. His strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her towards his muscular chest.

If he was a gentleman, it would've ended there. But he wasn't. He's the God of War and when he sees an opportunity, he takes it.

He uses her momentary shock as his opening. Without preamble, he rips off her mask and kisses her.

xxx

Athena tosses her mask carelessly beside her as she falls backwards into her bed. Closing her eyes, she still feels his touch against her skin. And then those green eyes. Like leaves of pine in the winter. A dark, frosty green that chills her. She shakes her head to clear the image.

He was Ares,for goodness sake! She hated him. Loathed him with a passion greater than Hera's wrath.

And still, he continues to occupy her thoughts. She even finds herself smiling in memory of his little snore.

She reckons that she must still be drunk off Dionysus's wine.

She turns so that she would be on her side and picks up her formerly discarded mask. It had provided a good buffer for her. A good excuse to let herself do what her heart wished and not be caged by the mental restraints of her head. In other words, allowed her to not be herself.

A surge of jealousy rises in her chest. Sometimes she wishes that she was not the goddess of reason. How much more liberating it would be to be free from her inhibitions. To stop the bloody battle between her heart and her mind.

She shuts her eyes and wills herself to sleep. There were still a few hours before daylight and there is no point in wishing the impossible.

Come the dawn, everything will be illuminated and she can leave behind the follies of one night's abandon.

Yet still in her dreams, she dreams of masks and green eyes.

xxx

He pulls back, opening his eyes to gaze down upon her. He had been brash and had caved in to his urge to kiss her before he had taken a good look at her face.

She opens her eyes to meet his. Dark wood brown. Perhaps it was the lighting, but he could've sworn they had been blue. Blue like clear, cloudless skies.

She backs a little away from him and runs a hand through her hair. As she does, the blonde curls turn to mahogany.

He watches as the transformation completes. Watches as her flaxen hair finishes darkening and her pale skin turns olive. The rising sun has dispelled all the magic of the evening.

"I guess the charade is over," she sighs. She had stalled enough for Athena to make her way home at least.

Athena had nearly tackled her down in her haste to get away. She had begged Aphrodite to forget that she saw her and to distract anyone who came looking for her. Before she could even agree her younger sibling had made a mad dash away. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Athena was supposed to draw the unwanted suitors away from her.

Only once she saw Ares in all his naked glory did Aphrodite realize exactly what it was that set Athena off in such a hasty fashion. It must have been quite a surprise to find herself in bed with her most despised rival. It was the stuff comedic plays were made of. Aphrodite will be holding this one of her sister's head for a long while.

She wanders over to the water's edge to glance down at her reflection. She runs a hand through her hair once more and smiles at the image reflected in the water's surface.

"It's so nice to be back in my own body. I don't think I prefer blonde," she comments over her shoulder.

"Who... are you?" he asks in wonderment.

She turns to him and smiles a beguiling smile. "I thought you knew."

He continues to stare at her, this stranger that has replaced his golden goddess.

"My name is Aphrodite, but you'll know me as the Goddess of Love and Beauty."

xxx

In the morning, Athena tucks the ivory mask into the bottom of a chest, covering it with a pile of silk for good measure. With the rise of the sun, the spells of the night have dissipated, and the goddess of reason sheds her disguise and becomes herself once more.

Just like the mask, she will tuck away the memories of the night's revelry into the recesses of her mind where it can collect dust and be forgotten amongst the relics of other past foolishness. Although she doubts Aphrodite will be doing the same. She should be bracing herself for some torture for sure. Nevertheless she was thankful to Aphrodite for her interference. She would not have made it home unrevealed otherwise.

She preoccupies herself with dressing and trying to put thoughts of the previous night behind her. She was nearly successful in the endeavor when a familiar guest shows up on her door steps.

Before her stood one of the mighty Olympian gods. His sand colored hair in disarray from his frantic haste to find her.

She blinks at him for a moment, her mouth open in utter surprise.

"Hermes! What are you doing here?"

She takes his hand to lead him into her home, warning him to be a bit discreet in his volume. Aphrodite was still slumbering away after having come back in the wee hours of the morning.

"And you know how she gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep," Athena jokes.

Hermes's somber expression holds and it makes her nervous. When she offers him a drink, he declines. For all of his hurry to get here, he has yet to speak more than a few words to her.

"What's the matter, Hermes? You're worrying me."

"I have a message to deliver. From Argos."

She feels her heart leap to her throat. Two messages from Argos in such a short span of time set off the warning bells in her head. He hands her the message solemnly and waits as she takes it from him, unrolls the scroll, and begins reading.

"It's Diomedes this time...He says that he needs to see me," Athena reads aloud. "He doesn't say why."

"There is a second part to the message that perhaps young Diomedes left out, but I think you should be aware before you go to see him."

"What is it?"

Hermes stares at her for a moment before answering. "Tydeus has passed into the Underworld last night. Diomedes shall be crowned king in a fortnight."

Athena stares back at him in silent shock. The King of Argos was very much in health the last time she saw him.

Hermes watches her. Watches how the gears are turning in her head as the implications of Tydeus's death dawns on her.

It is always with the passing of one king and the crowning of the next that the mortal world becomes most chaotic.

"I must go to him. Immediately. The new king-to-be will be in need of the strength of good counsel to guide him through these dark times. Will you help me?"

The suddenness of Tydeus's death is suspicious and she worries for his heir's safety.

Hermes nods in agreement and offers her his wings. They are much swifter than any chariot and she would require speed to reach Argos. She takes them from him and presses her lips to his cheek in thanks before taking off.

In her haste, she doesn't notice the God of War marching up the stone steps.

xxx

He lifts his head from his arms; pain prickles his idle limbs. He had fallen asleep at his desk and now he's paying for it. There had been too much to do. The advisers had not even waited a moment before they pounced on him like hungry falcons the moment his father, his king, had breathed his last. They assailed him with a million different things, each trying to whisper things in his ear. Their tongues leaden with honey and sweet promises.

He hates them all.

It was cowardly, he knows, but he locked himself up in his room, refusing any and all callers. He wished to see no one. Not a single soul.

Except for maybe one.

He spent the night writing and rewriting his letter only to end up writing the most idiotic and cryptic message possible: "I need to see you. Please."

He had burned the letter at Hermes's altar, sure that the messenger of the gods would get his message delivered without fail.

Once done with his task, he had fallen asleep trying to make sense of the mountain of paperwork that lay before him. Rest eluded him. Already the weight of the crown is too much, he feels, for his young mortal shoulders to bear.

It is with weariness to the very bone that he awakes to the feeling of a presence in his room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

He draws his sword from the sheath at his waist, his eyes swiftly scanning the room. It would not be the first time assassins have been sent to murder to-be-kings. But if they think he'd be easy prey, his assailants would have another thing coming.

"Put down your sword, Diomedes. Mortal instruments won't hurt me," she calls out. She lets her cloak slip from her shoulders, letting the spell of invisibility fade.

"Athena," he breathes. He goes down on one knee. She rolls her eyes and lifts him to his feet.

"I didn't know that kings bowed to anyone," she chides.

"I am not king yet," he replies. "And you are a goddess."

"I thought I was a friend."

He smiles at that. She reaches out to stroke his cheek and he raises his hand to cover it. He closes his eyes for a moment and leans into her touch.

He looks weary, oh so very weary and her heart cries for him.

"I suppose you've heard already? About my father?"

Their smiles simultaneously vanish, replaced with somber expressions.

"Yes," she replies solemnly. "I've heard about Tydeus. I'm here to offer you guidance."

"You mean you're here to talk me out of doing anything foolish. Like revenge."

"So you suspect foul play?"

"He was healthy, Athena. He kept trying to tell me something. Something had been bothering him; he had been so frantic and nervous in the last few days, but he was always cryptic. I thought he was just paranoid and I didn't pay any attention to him. And now he is dead. This is my fault."

Diomedes breaks away from her and begins his pacing. She frowns as she notices that his bed looks unslept in while his desk bore the mark of a late night; the candle beside his scrolls has burned down to a mere nub.

"It's not your fault, Diomedes."

He stops in his pacing and turns to her, his face the look of devastation.

"What kind of son neglects his father? Even worse... what sort of son could fail his father so miserably?"

She shakes her head and marches towards him, gathering his hands into hers.

"You did not neglect your father," she says sternly. "And you have not failed him. Tydeus had never been more proud. You must know that."

"I feel like I'm drowning, Athena. I cannot be king. I am not strong enough."

She closes her eyes and presses his forehead to hers.

"You are," she urges. "I have never met another man more suitable to be king."

"Your faith in me is astounding," he whispers. "But I fear it only adds to my burden that I might disappoint you as well as him."

She pulls back, her eyebrows knitted together in an expression of frustration. With one quick movement, she connects her open palm with his cheek.

He blinks back at her with wide eyes, his hand touching his face. "You hit me!"

She expels a huff and puts her hands on her hips.

"Since talking sense into you wasn't working, I thought slapping it into you might be a better option."

She has the most stern expression on her face, her eyes all ablaze. It reminds him of a memory when he was younger when she had taken on the form of a village girl to accompany him.

His lips curl into a smile of their own volition and he starts laughing. Just when he thought he was never going to be able to laugh again.

"I've missed you, Athena."

She smiles back at him. "And I you."

His hand reaches for her face as if to caress it, but he catches himself. He cannot be so forward with an immortal, even if he's slipped several times in the past already. He was not a boy anymore. He can no longer blame ignorance for his impropriety.

She notices his sudden stiffness and frowns. Disappointed that he's suddenly taking a turn for the formal with her.

"You show favoritism for me. Why is that?" he asks.

The question was simple. It was the answer that was complicated.

She shakes her head, unsure of how to even begin.

"You are my friend," she says finally. "And you are kind and courageous."

"Other men are kind and courageous."

Yes, but none was Diomedes. None made her smile as easily, none understood her so well. It was a dangerous thing, this attraction of hers to this mortal. How many times had Aphrodite told her this?

"You dally with mortals all the time," Athena had pointed out.

"Dangerous not for us," Aphrodite corrects. "Dangerous for them. And you are not like me, Athena. You take everything all too seriously. It will break your heart when he dies. And they always do."

She raises her hand to his face to cup his cheek and places a kiss on his forehead, not heeding the memory of Aphrodite's warning.

"Because I care about you, Diomedes," She answers, rubbing her thumbs over the place where she had hit him earlier.

He opens his mouth as if to protest but changes his mind. To pretend to not care for her like he does would be unnatural. They had grown up together, trained together. Even if she was a god and he a mere human, it doesn't change the fact that he will always love Athena. Perhaps more than he should.

"I've been blessed by the gods, it seems, to have somehow earned your affections. I would be foolish to question it."

"Oh, very foolish to question the logic of the Goddess of Wisdom," Athena agrees with a smile.

She drops her hands and turns her back on him. She wanders over to his overflowing desk, piled ceiling high with scrolls and quills.

"Enough of the matters of the heart. There is business of the state to attend to. You have a throne to think of, my young king."

He nods in agreement and walks over to stand beside her. They spend the rest of the day discussing political strategies and pouring over the mountain of legal documents and decrees that his father's advisers had showered him with.

xxx

Aphrodite wakes up to the sounds of Hermes' and Athena's voices. With a groan, she rolls over and presses a pillow over her ears. Their voices soon fade away, and she drifts off once more to blissful slumber when angry shouting awakens her once again.

With an angry growl, she climbs out of bed and wraps a silky robe over her night gown before marching out to see what all the fuss is about.

Arriving at the top of the staircase that led into the Olympian home she shared with Athena, Aphrodite was bombarded by a most unruly of scenes. Two Olympians caught in the middle of a shouting match. She recognized one as Hermes, messenger of the gods and one of Athena's good friends. They rarely see each other, but she's often curt with him since he had snubbed several of her advances in the past.

The two males look ready to start an all-out brawl in front of her home, so she tightens her sash around her robe and makes her descent towards them.

"If you are going to fight, do you mind taking your little squabble somewhere other than my front porch?" she calls out.

They both lift their heads at the sound of her voice. She is startled to realize that she recognized the other man besides Hermes as the rather delectable male specimen who had rather thoroughly kissed her earlier that morning.

"You..."

She sighs a little woefully as she notices that since she's fled his presence, he'd gone to dress himself in something more substantial than mere bed sheets.

"You know him?" Hermes frowns.

"Yes..." She replies carefully. "We've met... briefly."

Hermes raises his eyebrows but takes a step back so that Ares can approach her.

"So you really are Aphrodite," the God of War mutters, his eyes raking her body.

She does not shy away from his gaze. In fact, she positions herself in the most flattering pose possible; and she does it with such natural grace, it doesn't come off as deliberate at all.

"Did you think I was a liar?" She replies, quirking one eyebrow upwards in a perfect arch. "What were you two doing screaming your heads off in front of my house? A girl needs her beauty sleep, don't you know?"

"I had come to see Athena regarding important news," Hermes answers her. "I was on my way out when I saw him marching up the stairs. I was trying to prevent him from bursting in and disturbing you... but I had not realized you two were acquainted."

"I didn't realize that the great messenger, Hermes, was also a pet guard dog," Ares drawls condescendingly.

"And I'm surprised you're capable of any thought greater than contemplation of what to pummel next with your fists," Hermes replies coolly.

Before Ares can raise his fists, Aphrodite places a hand on his shoulder.

"Hermes, thank you for your considerate thoughts, but I will be fine. You should hurry on back home."

Hermes grits his teeth but nods a curt good bye to the goddess before making his descent. Only once his figure had disappeared from view does Aphrodite turn to her remaining guest.

"Do you cause torrents wherever you go?"

He laughs. "It is the nature of war to be thus. As I assume as the goddess of love and beauty, your nature is to be..."

He trails off and gestures to her provocative posture with his eyes to complete his sentence for him.

She smiles, pleased that he's noticed. Not that it was terribly difficult to notice. She was Aphrodite, she oozed seduction.

"You're different..." he says. "From last night."

"Yes, my hair was blonde then," she points out.

He shakes his head and is about to say something else but stops. He reaches into his cloak, procures her ivory mask from its folds, and extends it towards her.

"You dropped this after you fled Dionysus's residence."

She thanks him and reaches for it. His hand closes over hers as she does so.

"Hermes is very protective of you, you know," he comments. "Who would've thought that the young herald would prove more effective in guarding than a Phalanx formation."

"A what formation?"

He frowns at her answer, his eyebrows knitting together above his clear green eyes. "You were the one going on at length about the difference between the Spartan and the Macedonian forms..."

She has long since realized that he had mistaken her for Athena, but if she needed any further convincing, this was it. Leave it to Athena to go on and on about military formations and what not, even when she has a perfectly handsome god in her bed.

"Oh, of course. I'm still a little groggy from lack of sleep."

"Yes, you did not do much of that last night," he smirks at her suggestively.

She grins back at him, enjoying the dirt she was gathering on beloved Athena. Suddenly, a deliciously mischievous idea pops in her head.

"Thank you again for the mask… I assume you've been invited to the dinner party Zeus is holding in a fortnight," she smiles.

"I have," he answers.

"Then I'll look forward to seeing you there."

She casts him one beguiling glance over her shoulder, making sure to add some extra sway to her hips as she made her way back inside.

"And so you shall," he promises.

His answer widens the smirk on her face as she places her hand against the door. The sound of retreating footsteps marks his departure. She goes back inside and glances down at the ivory mask he had returned to her. It was identical to the one she had given to Athena.

The horrible dinner party she had been dreading was finally starting to look up.

Placing the mask over her face, she admires her reflection in the mirror.

"Let the games begin."

She presses a kiss on the mirror before tossing the mask carelessly aside.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character/Gods Counterpart Reference List:  
> Ares - Klaus  
> Athena - Caroline  
> Aphrodite - Katherine  
> Dionysus - Damon  
> Hermes - Matt  
> Diomedes - Stefan  
> Zeus – Mikael  
> Hera - Ester

Ares has been on edge for several days. His anxiousness was easily transparent and the object of Dionysus's puzzlement. The God of War's apprehension often manifested itself through vicious sparring matches with random individuals (mortals and immortals alike) and a whole lot of bruising. It was a known fact that Ares and Zeus did not exactly see eye to eye, and with Zeus's banquet drawing nearer, the God of War grew more and more restless. Nonetheless, Zeus is king and Ares is, if anything, a good general. And good generals followed orders. Most of the time, anyways.

"What's got your robes in a twist?" Dionysus drawls over a goblet of wine.

His friend strolls over and steals his cup from him, draining it

"Hey!" Dionysus complains.

Ares smiles and hands it back to him. Only before Dionysus's fingers could encircle the glass, Ares drops it, letting it shatter on the ground.

"Rude!"

Ares laughs and returns to swinging his sword at the wooden dummy set up in Dionysus's courtyard.

"You shouldn't be getting drunk before the party, anyways," Ares counters.

"Being drunk is the only way I can stand watching you chop that dummy into a toothpick," Dionysus retorts, reaching for another glass. "What's your problem, anyways? I know that you're usually moody, but you're even moodier than usual if that was possible."

Ares thrusts and stabs the pointed end of his sword through the dummy's heart, lodging his sword firmly into the wood, and turns back to face his friend.

"There was a girl... in a mask at your party," he begins.

Dionysus peeks up at him from over the rim of his wine glass. "The one in the gold dress?"

"You remember her?"

Dionysus snorts. "How could I forget? You wanted to rip her head off."

Ares studies him carefully. "I thought you were drunk."

"I'm always drunk," Dionysus grins, his eyes shone with mischief. "Wait... you're not, like, planning to murder her or something, are you? That's not what all these hacking and breaking and general violent tendencies are about, is it?"

Ares rolls his eyes, but smiles. "Killing her is the last thing on my mind."

Dionysus smirks knowingly. "You made good use of one of my guest rooms, I suppose?"

Ares ignores his depraved commentary and turns his attention to the task of wiping down his sword until it shone in the light.

"I found out who she is."

Dionysus raises his eyebrows at that and places his undrunk wine on the table besides him.

"Oh?"

The dark-haired god fixes a questioning look in his direction. Ares turns, walks back to the wooden dummy, and pulls out his sword with a forceful yank.

"She's Zeus's daughter."

"Oh," Dionysus intones with dramatic emphasis.

They're both quiet for a moment before Dionysus finally breaks the silence.

"So, are you sure you don't want to get drunk before the party?"

xxx

It's been many moons since her indiscretion with a certain God of War. Athena was finally back to her old routine. She spends her days, and the occasional nights, with Diomedes as he made preparations for his official ascension to the throne. As always when she sets her mind to a task, she becomes consumed by it. Thoughts of political strategies and methods to undermine subterfuge took up all the room in her brain, leaving no space for thoughts of green eyes and the lingering ghost of strong, calloused hands.

Furthermore, Aphrodite has oddly neglected to torture her about that night. And while it seemed highly uncharacteristic of her sister to not, at the very least, tease her about the whole debacle, Athena decided to let sleeping dogs lie. She was not foolish enough to remind Aphrodite of her humiliation despite her curiosity. Still, a whole fortnight passes and nothing. Athena reckons it's due to Aphrodite's new secret lover that has her distracted.

"I can't wait until I show him to you tonight," Aphrodite says as she puts on the finishing touch to her dress. "There. Finished."

Aphrodite's lips curl into a Cheshire grin as she looks at her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied, she turns and strikes a pose so that Athena, too, can admire her.

In a dress that looks like liquid flames, clinging and accentuating all the right places, Aphrodite looks every inch the radiant Goddess of Beauty.

Athena has often been jealous of her sister, but she has long since realized that she cannot blame Aphrodite for something she cannot control. It was in Aphrodite's nature to be beautiful, uninhibited, and seductive. You can't hate a scorpion for being a scorpion, and you can't hate a frog for being a frog. It just so happens that she is the frog, she thinks depressingly.

"Hmm... I wonder if the blue dress was better..." Aphrodite contemplates as she runs a hand down the fabric, smoothing an invisible wrinkle.

"No, this is perfect," Athena assures, peering over her scrolls. "Red suits you."

"You're not even looking!" Aphrodite complains. "What's with the scrolls, anyways?"

"Some things I'm looking over for Diomedes."

Aphrodite snorts. "You're doing his homework for him now?"

Athena sighs and looks up at her sister. "No. I'm being a good friend."

"I don't understand why you're keeping up this pretense of friendship when we both know you want to be more than friends," the darker-haired goddess quirks her eyebrows at Athena suggestively.

"We're just friends," Athena insists. "You know, contrary to what you believe, there can be male-female relationships that don't involve a bed."

"My relationships with males don't always involve a bed," Aphrodite smirks.

Athena rolls her eyes. She's used to Aphrodite's sensational commentary.

"Anyways, it all seems very boring to me. But whatever floats your boat, I suppose. I'm surprised you're not ditching the dinner party to go to his ascension," Aphrodite says with a yawn for emphasis.

"You're right," she answers with a serious face. "Diomedes needs me more. I must drop everything and go to him."

Aphrodite's eyes widen and she opens her mouth in shock. "You cannot leave me alone to fend for myself during this dinner! You are going!"

Athena laughs, raising her eyebrow at her sister.

"I was just kidding. Calm down. Besides, Diomedes doesn't need me to handhold him, and he wouldn't appreciate it either. He needs to be king now. He has to learn to stand on his own two feet. I just... want to help occasionally," she shrugs. "Besides... this isn't just any regular dinner party. Zeus demands our presence and you cannot say no to father."

This time, it is Aphrodite's turn to roll her eyes, but she looked pleased with Athena's answer. "Well, you can't. You're daddy's little girl."

Aphrodite's relationship with their father was always a rocky one. She was the rebellious sister, the one who caused their father the most grief. And Athena. Well, Athena had always been the logical one, the sensible one. The goody-two-shoes. Mostof the time, anyways. But she didn't want to think about that.

"Don't be like that. He cares about you, too."

Aphrodite scoffs and turns away. "Yeah, right. But it doesn't matter. I'm just going because there'll be some interesting company at the party."

A smug smile stretches Aphrodite's red lips, but Athena knew that it was façade. Aphrodite was more sensitive than she would like to let on. She was also as stubborn as a mule. They had at least some things in common as sisters after all. Athena sighs, but lets the topic drop.

"Well, I better go get ready myself."

Aphrodite smiles at her, something strange twinkling in her eyes. "I can't wait to see you there. You should wear the red dress I gave you. We can match."

Athena raises her eyebrow and blinks at her sister in disbelief. "You… want to match?"

"It'll be cute. We used to do it when we were younger."

"Yeah… like when we were five, maybe," she says, wrinkling her brows together.

"I was just being nice since you're always wearing those ugly men's tunics."

"Hey! I do not wear them all of the time. I need them to practice in. You can't wear gowns under armor, okay? You'll chafe!" She retorts with her hands on her hips.

"Well, you're not planning on duking it out with anybody tonight, are you?"

"No…" she mutters under her breath.

"Well, no excuses then! I'll see you at dinner. Don't be late or you'll miss out on all the fun."

With that, Aphrodite turns her attentions back to the mirror, flipping her hair in the process. It was a clear sign of dismissal, and Athena rolls her eyes for the millionth time before leaving.

Thinking back, Athena realizes she should've been more suspicious. Aphrodite seemed a little too insistent on her not missing the dinner, not that she was planning to anyways, but still. When Aphrodite is so willful about something, she should've known something was up. But she didn't think anything of it. Athena had just reckoned that Aphrodite had merely forgotten.

She was wrong.

She should've known beforehand that whenever there was a gathering of the gods, chaos would ensue. She just never thought she'd be involved in any of it.

xxx

He never should have let her get to him. But there had always been something fiery, something contradictory, in those serene blue eyes of hers that set him off. Made his blood boil with what he thought was hate. He'll later realize it was for a far different reason than he initially suspected. He only wished that he realized sooner.

As soon as he arrived, Aphrodite found him.

"There you are."

She flashes him a smile that looked feline, predatory. He felt his own lips curling into a smirk of their own.

"I'm so glad you made it."

She bats her eyelashes at him and positions herself in the most attractive pose possible so that he can admire her in her red dress. The fabric looks alive, the way it clung to her curves and moved as she did. On anybody else, he'd think they were trying too hard. But somehow the brunette made it all look effortless. She was seduction personified and she knew it. And he didn't particularly mind playing along.

"When Zeus throws a party, you can't just say no," he replies.

She pouts and runs a hand down his chest. "Is his command the only reason you're here? I didn't know the God of War was so... obedient."

He covers her hand with his, stopping her just above the waist. "You're rather bold, aren't you?"

She pulls her hand away from his and grins. "Come. I want you to meet somebody."

She loops her arm around his and tugs him along.

Athena was caught up in the middle of a conversation with Hermes when suddenly, the god stops mid-sentence.

"Oh no...," he groans. "I think you're going to need some wine for this... I'll be right back."

Athena quirks her eyebrow at him in amusement as he makes his leave. Hermes had always been a little flighty. It was part of his job description after all. But she didn't realize what could've sent him running until she saw what he had been looking at. Or to be more accurate, who he had been looking at.

Ares. On Aphrodite's arm.

Now Athena knew why Aphrodite had stayed quiet about Dionysus's party so many nights ago. The Goddess of Love and Beauty was more cunning than people would give her credit for. The only problem was that she just usually used that cunning for petty vendettas. Like humiliating her sister.

"Ares, I don't think you've met my sister, Athena," Aphrodite says, a tinge of smugness in her voice.

Athena manages to recover from the initial shock enough to glance up and meet Ares's eyes. She instantly regrets it. The sight of him hits her harder than a ton of bricks.

Suddenly, all the memories that she's been repressing, all the conflicted feelings that she's been trying so hard to bury, all come rushing back to the surface.

He looks just as shocked to see her, his eyes widening ever so slightly. His brows furrows for a moment as he concentrates on the features of her face. He seemed to be struggling to reconcile something internally. She suddenly felt self-conscious. She always does under his gaze, it seems. His eyes rake down her body, probably passing judgment, and she suddenly wishes she had worn armor after all. Standing beside Aphrodite, she felt inadequate.

"Athena," he says finally. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

There's an irony to his statement that doesn't escape her. There are no masks this time. Nothing to hide behind, nothing to shield her. This is the moment of truth. Everything comes to a head at this moment, and her heart is hammering away in her chest. There's a thunderstorm inside of her head and it's all too much. She feels like she's about to burst with all of the conflicting feelings inside of her.

"Of course if you were a man, you would have met me in battle. But I reckon you shouldn't stray too far away from the loom."

And just as quickly, the feelings deflated like a candle being snuffed out by a pail of ice water. Her shocked expression quickly transforms into a mask of cold fury.

xxx

He didn't expect to meet her this way. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that in a gathering of all the gods, he was bound to run into her eventually. But she was not what he had expected. Not what he expected at all.

For one thing, she was rather… beautiful. In her one-shouldered red dress, she matched Aphrodite. But where Aphrodite was all sultry seduction and fire, she wore her dress differently. She wore it like she wore armor, he realizes. Her stance straight-backed and her feet slightly apart. A soldier's stance. He's sure that if anyone came at her right this moment, she'd be able to hold her ground and the warrior in him admired that. It set her apart from other girls, from other gods.

The candle light cast golden shadows on her hair, which fell in waves that framed her face attractively. But what captured him the most was her eyes. Clear, blue eyes. Where has he seen such eyes before? Something tugged at the dark recesses of his mind, but he can't figure out what.

Her mouth was parted slightly, as she was surprised to see him too, he reckons. And he has a treacherous fleeting thought to cover those lips with his own.

He's disturbed by the direction his thoughts were venturing. This was Athena. The dreadful, horrible Athena. His arch nemesis if there ever was one. And he could not let the shock of her appearance make him falter. He was not so weak as to be swayed by a pretty face. So he composes himself and says the most obnoxious thing he could think of. It earns him the reaction that he wanted and he sees her lovely face grow cold. The upturned corner of her lips looks more like a scowl than a smile.

xxx

She clenches her fists to her side, restraining herself from wanting to punch him in the mouth. Her hands itch to wipe that annoyingly handsome, smug grin off his face. Instead, she decides to not stoop to physical blows. That would be sinking to his level, and she was smarter than that.

"Ah, the great God of War," she sighs. "I've heard so much about you. Your prowess in the battlefield, how you can bring down an entire army with one fell swoop… You're a great general."

He beams under her praise.

"My father is skilled at training brutes that way. Zeus can take any animal, even a gorilla, and make him productive."

Well, maybe she was sinking just a little.

She flashes him a falsely sweet grin, and Ares realizes that Athena's smile is more predatory than her sister's. Where he had been confused before, he was no longer, and he doesn't know how it was possible that he could ever entertain the thought of kissing her when he very much wanted to kill her on the spot.

She was lucky that at that moment, Dionysus stumbled into the group and looped an arm around him.

"Ares! When did you get here? Come! I can't drink all this wine by myself!"

Ares roughly shoves Dionysus's arm off of him. He marches up towards her, close enough that she can feel his hot breath on her face when he spoke.

"Little girl, I'd learn some respect if I were you."

"Oh yeah?" she retorts. "What are you going to do? Sink my ships in the Persian sea? Oh wait, I forgot. Those were your ships that sunk."

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she had time to think. A common occurrence, it seems, whenever he was near. She lost her mind with him around. The reminder of his defeat at her hands was a low blow. Thousands of innocents died that day, and she still did not think of that battle as much of a victory. Necessary perhaps, but victorious? No. She did not relish in mortals' deaths. Still, she had known that that loss was a sore spot for Ares, and sure enough, her comment produced the desired effect. His eyes blazed with wrath.

While she believed that he would not hit an unarmed opponent, much less a female, what with his warrior's pride, he really did look quite ready to strike her.

"That was a mistake. One. But if you think you can take me on, you are sadly mistaken. I've been waging war for centuries while you were just a mere migraine in Zeus's head."

"I can take you," she snaps, unwilling to back down.

Their heated argument was starting to draw attention, and from the corner of her eyes, she notices the other gods turning to watch them.

"Ares, leave it alone. Come on," Dionysus urges.

"She needs to be a taught a lesson," he growls in reply, his eyes never leaving hers.

She notices then that his eyes had golden flecks in them. They blazed like fire when he was angry. An odd thing to notice when they were just about ready to go for each other's throats.

Just then, Zeus decided to make his appearance, with Hera by his side.

"What's going on here?"

His voice was thunderous and silenced the room.

All the gods turn and bow before the King of the Gods, dispelling for a moment the tension between the two of them.

Zeus glances about the room and quickly spots them, walking over to where they were.

"Athena," he calls, beckoning her forward with his hand.

She winces, recognizing the disapproving expression on his face, and steps forward.

"Father," she says, dipping into a bow.

"Care to explain the disturbance?"

"I..." she begins hesitantly.

She fumbles for something to say, but couldn't. It was then that Ares spoke up.

"We had a disagreement," he says. "And I was showing Athena the errors of her ways."

She seethes from his arrogant tone, but bites her tongue. Zeus regards her, and she feels self-conscious under his scrutiny. She loved her father, but she would be a fool if she said she was not afraid of him. There was a reason why he was King of the Gods. Finally, he turns from her and looks to Ares who held himself tense like a string pulled taunt.

"Surely, Ares, you would understand that Athena is young for a goddess. She is still brash and has not yet come fully into her powers and wisdom."

Athena doesn't miss Zeus's stress on the word 'wisdom' and had the good judgment to look properly chastised.

Zeus's lips slightly curls upwards at the corner as she hangs her head before returning to its former frown.

"My apologies, my king," Ares replies coolly. "But if I were you, I'd be sure that my daughter be better disciplined."

He cast a cold gaze at Ares. They were curt to one another and there seems to be no love lost between them.

"My daughter's education shall be my business, not yours, Ares."

Ares took a deep breath and seemed to want to retort, but Hera cast a glance at him and shook her head slightly. He looks conflicted for a moment before exhaling. He restrains himself from whatever commentary he wanted to add and instead bent to bow, hand to chest.

"I beg your pardon, Zeus. I did not mean to speak out of turn."

Hera smiled then and looped her arm through Zeus's.

"Come on, Zeus. Children will be children," Hera soothes. "We haven't even sat down for dinner yet."

"They are not all my children. Athena may be mine, but Ares is yours," Zeus replies.

Ares bristles from his comment, but doesn't say a word. The topic of Ares's parentage seemed to be a sore point between the two of them. For a moment, Hera's smile falters, but she quickly recovers.

"We are family, Zeus," Hera says in a tone that rivaled Zeus's own commanding voice. "That is what matters."

Zeus doesn't respond, and she manages to pull him away. The moment the royal pair disappeared from sight, a collective sigh came over the room.

She's only just barely recovered from Zeus's appearance when Ares turned to her once more.

"You're lucky to have so many people running interference for you, little goddess," he says. "This time. Next time, things might end differently."

With a huff, he turns and stalks away. She sneers at his retreating figure.

"Well... you sure know how to get under his skin fast," Dionysus drawls.

In all the excitement, she had forgotten that Dionysus was there.

"For the Goddess of Wisdom, I would've thought you'd be smarter than to start a pissing contest with the God of War."

"He started it!" she replies childishly.

Dionysus smiles, but Athena notices that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes and he had been careful to avoid looking directly in Aphrodite's direction all the while.

"Aphrodite," he greets belatedly.

"Dionysus," she responds in kind.

Throughout the whole heated exchange, Aphrodite had been watching calmly at the sidelines. She had tensed briefly when Dionysus showed up, but she made a show of finding her nails vastly more fascinating than the potential smack down between her sister and the God of War that had only been narrowly averted.

"You look..." he trailed off, his eyes taking in her slender form, his eyebrows knitting together in concentration.

No one else would know it, but Athena could tell from the way Aphrodite lifted her head ever so slightly that she was pleased by his examination. Aphrodite always loved moments that stroked her ego.

"Did you gain weight?" Dionysus finishes.

Athena could barely smother the laugh before it burst from her lips. If looks could kill, Dionysus would have been flayed, seasoned, and roasted as the night's main course. It's a good thing nobody put Aphrodite in charge of the menu tonight. Without a word, she harrumphed and stomped off in the opposite direction.

"You're going to get it now," Athena sing-songs.

"She'll get over it," Dionysus replies dismissively. "You, on the other hand... Stay out of trouble, Blondie. I can't always be there to be your hero."

She snorts derisively. "Who asked for your protection? I can handle Ares."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," Dionysus says. Something about the way he said it made her feel dirty, as if he knew all her secrets. He was already privy to too many if memory serves her right. "You handled him pretty well a few nights ago."

Her head shoots up and she stares at him. Then she says with a perfectly straight face, "I don't know what you are talking about."

He laughs. "Alright, I get it. Keep it all on the down low. Might be for the better, anyways. You two are like a volcano and a tornado. You could be great together, you know. But I bet you'd kill each other first."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" she mutters, allowing the annoyance to seep into her voice. "Maidens to deflower or something?"

"You'd know best."

She glares at him.

He gives her wink before taking off in the direction that Ares had gone earlier. She doesn't mourn his departure.

As Athena makes her way into the dining room, Aphrodite comes out from behind a corner and sidles beside her.

"You sure know how to pick them," she says smugly.

Now that the boys were gone and she had time to nurse her injured ego, she was brimming with her usual haughtiness once more. Athena shoots her a withering glare, which only served to make Aphrodite's smile grow wider.

"Don't worry. I promise I won't reveal your identity. You were doing me a favor after all. Your secret is safe with me," she assures. "Besides... I think things worked out for the best. Ares can be quite the kisser... it's a wonderful trait for a lover to possess, don't you think?"

There were times when Athena loved her sister. That despite all their differences, she knew that Aphrodite means well and would never do anything to hurt her (not seriously, anyways). That despite what everyone else thinks and says, Aphrodite was not a bad person. And that when worst comes to worst, her sister would be there for her.

And then there were the times when Athena was sure that Aphrodite was nothing but a vapid, shallow, mean-spirited bitch.

Athena huffs and stomps away, only to have Aphrodite follow her.

"It was just a joke, Athena. God, stop being so serious," Aphrodite rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something else, but stops. Realization suddenly dawns on her. "You don't have feelings for him, do you?"

Athena whirls around abruptly to face her sister. "Of course not!" she answers hastily.

Aphrodite narrows her eyes at her and studies her for a moment. "Are you sure?"

"He's an ass, so obviously he's more of your type," Athena retorts.

Aphrodite snorts in reply and Athena leaves to go sit down at her spot at the table. She barely gets a moment's peace once seated when Hermes slips into the spot next to her and hands her a cup of wine.

She looks up at him and narrows her eyes.

"Thanks for ditching me."

"Hey, I brought you wine, didn't I?"

She rolls her eyes, but knocks back the glass, drinking until there wasn't a drop left. She sets the empty glass back down on the table and lets out an exhale.

"Feel better?" Hermes laughs.

She's about to answer yes when the gods started assembling towards the table and she realizes the seating arrangement.

Sliding into the seat across from her was none other than Ares himself. He flashes her a smirk before taking his seat.

"I think I'm going to need the whole pitcher to feel better," she mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please be aware that I am taking creative liberties with Greek mythology and blending it with TVD mythology. This includes the parentage of some of the gods and their relationship with one another. For example, Ares (Klaus) is not Zeus's (Mikael's) son as he is in the TVD universe. But meanwhile, Athena (Caroline) is Zeus's (Mikael's) daughter which is accurate according to Greek mythology, but is not true in TVD. More gods and the occasional greek hero will be popping up in later installments and I shall be taking similar liberties with them. Overall, please take everything with a grain of salt as I'm not an ancient Greek expert. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also Paige (skerdypants) is amazing and the best beta ever.


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character/Gods Counterpart Reference List:  
> Athena – Caroline  
> Ares – Klaus  
> Aphrodite – Katherine  
> Diomedes – Stefan  
> Dionysus – Damon  
> Hermes – Matt  
> Apollo – Kol  
> Artemis – Rebekah  
> Demeter – Jenna  
> Hades – Alaric  
> Hephaestus – Mason  
> Hera – Esther  
> Persephone – Bonnie  
> Poseidon – Elijah  
> Zeus – Mikael

The dinner was a caricature of civility. A gathering of all the gods always meant a lot of different opinions and butting heads, and most definitely a few calamitous love affairs to boot.

At the head of the table, Zeus and Hera sat in private discussion amongst themselves. Their heads together and their voices hushed, not that any of the gods were paying any attention, anyways.

Hades was seated at the front besides Zeus. The God of the Underworld had his feet propped up and was leaning back against his chair in a carefree manner. Usually, Zeus would not condone such disrespectful behaviors, but the brothers seemed to have come to a mutual understanding of "I don't say anything about your business and you don't say anything about mine."

It's a surprise Hades even ventured from the Underworld all the way up to Olympus to go to the dinner. Deductive reasoning would conclude that from the way he was casting smug smiles at Persephone, who was seated beside her mother, that it must be the Spring Goddess's presence that had brought the Lord of the Underworld far from his home. Persephone does her best to ignore him, but it was clear that her frustration was growing.

Demeter, who had been carefully observing the exchange of glances between the older Dark Lord and her daughter, shoots Hades a dark look. Hades answers by pursing his lips in a mock kiss which serves to only fuel her fury. He wasn't winning any points with the mother-daughter combo tonight.

Hephaestus sat to Hades's right, his expression betraying nothing. More often than not, he'd rather be forging at his furnace than participate in such social functions. He used to be a livelier fellow, and Athena recalls her earliest memories with the blacksmith, particularly since he had been instrumental in her birth. In that way, Athena had always regarded Hephaestus almost as a second father. Or if anything an older brother because he was still too young to be regarded a father by any means. And when Zeus had always been the tough authoritarian figure in her childhood, Hephaestus was the one who gave her her first sword and taught her to appreciate the art of iron and steel. That was before the fall, however.

Ever since his accident, which none of the gods spoke of openly, he's become a recluse. And after a while, they all accepted his change. Even still, he was particularly quiet this dinner despite Hermes's attempts at conversations.

Meanwhile, Artemis and Apollo were having yet another sibling quarrel, gesturing animatedly with their hands. Athena and Aphrodite may not always be each other's favorite, but Artemis and Apollo were as different as, well... night and day. Dionysus is downing glass after glass of wine and occasionally inserting snarky commentary in the twins' argument, but mostly only to flirt with Artemis. Apollo, for his part, doesn't look very impressed. He turns to Athena to just say how little he thought of Dionysus's attempts to woo his sister, but Athena doesn't hear him. She's too busy sawing into her meat, pretending it was a certain sandy-haired God of War. Or better yet, her sister.

Poseidon, as the other king, sat on Zeus's right. He continues to eat in calm silence despite the raucous surrounding him. The God of the Sea was ever cool and composed, but there was a reason the mortals called him Earth Shaker. Like the sea and ocean that was his domain, Poseidon's calm could easily turn into a hurricane. At the moment, however, he was merely sipping from his glass and observing his nieces and nephews with slight amusement.

Occasionally Aphrodite would try and draw his attention. Just as Hephaestus was instrumental in Athena's birth, Poseidon had been involved in Aphrodite's. Since they were young, Aphrodite had always nursed a torch for the older Sea God. As far as Athena knew, she has long since outgrown this crush on their uncle. But still, the Goddess of Love and Beauty was a flirt, and so the occasional lingering glances would be made. Tonight, however, Aphrodite had somehow managed to get herself seated next to Ares, and so her fawning was directed primarily towards the God of War.

The sight of the two of them made Athena rather nauseous. When Aphrodite leaned in to whisper something in Ares's ear that made him smile a small wicked grin, she nearly breaks her plate in two. Aphrodite looks over at her sister with a mischievous grin.

"You don't have to kill it, Athena. It's already dead," Aphrodite remarks snidely as she reaches for her wine glass.

Ares chuckles at her remark. Athena raises her head up to glower at them both.

"I must admire your skill, Athena, to wield your fork like a trident," Aphrodite continues, quickly shooting a glance at Poseidon, as if to see if he'd appreciated her wit.

"Oh, Aphrodite. Don't be so modest. From what I hear, your forking is excellent."

Hermes nearly chokes on his drink and Dionysus outright laughs. The jibe is cruder than what she usually dealt, but her temper was getting the best of her.

Apollo looks back and forth between Aphrodite and Athena, finding himself immensely enjoying the sibling drama that wasn't his own. Aphrodite glares at her, her lips pressed together into a tight line.

"She's a bit of a spitfire, isn't she?" Ares remarks. "I would have assumed that the Goddess of Wisdom would be cooler-headed."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming things-"

Before Athena can finish, Dionysus coughs, interrupting her. She turns to focus her glare on him and he winks in return. A part of her is annoyed with him, but the other part of her is thankful because in the current temper she's in, she's acting horribly childish.

"So," Hermes says, trying to ease the tension in the room. "I heard that the Argives shall be hosting a tournament in honor of their new king's ascension to the throne."

Sure enough, talk of an upcoming chance for bloodshed and violence piques Ares's interest.

"Ah, yes. Diomedes, son of the great Tydeus. I remember his father, but have yet to meet the son. The mortals speak of great things about him."

"They say he rivals Hercules in strength and Odysseus in wit," Apollo says.

"And Adonis in looks," Aphrodite adds. "Though how true that is, we'll have to ask Athena. He's her favorite champion, after all."

Eyes turn to Athena. She carefully lays down her fork and affixes a pleasant smile on her face.

"Diomedes is a great man and he shall be a great king," she answers diplomatically. "The fates of the Argives are in good hands with his crowning."

"Like I said, he's Athena's favorite," Aphrodite drawled in a bored tone.

"Sounds like quite a specimen," Artemis grins mischievously.

Artemis may not be at the same level as Aphrodite, but she always loved to flirt with mortals. It usually ended up badly. Just ask Orion who now hung amongst the stars.

"This tournament talk is boring. If nobody dies, I don't really care," Hades inserts.

"They're all mortals, Hades. They'll die one way or another," Ares sighs, waving his hand dismissively. "They're such undurable creatures that way. At least with the tournament, they can provide a bit of entertainment."

He smirks and Hades grins back. In a way, the two gods shared a common interest: death. Ares raises his glass to the Lord of the Underworld, and they clink their glasses together in agreement. It's enough to set Athena off.

"Of course, you're both so obsessed over violence and bloodshed that you don't understand the sanctity of human life," she bursts out. Her nails bite into her skin as her hands form into fists.

"Don't tell me you actually care about these mortals," Ares drawls, raising his eyebrow at her.

"So what if I do?"

He bursts into laughter, which only served to fuel her anger.

"They are mortals," he says, as if that was the simple answer to everything. Once he realizes she did not find any of the conversation amusing, he continues. "They are inferior to us. Like ants."

"Of course you'd say that. You only care to treat them like your own personal playthings and toy soldiers. To manipulate as you wish and to easily discard once you're through. But the mortals are capable of great deeds. They have honor, loyalty, and strength. In comparison, you're only interested in stroking your own ego by picking on those weaker than you!"

The other gods let out an audible "oh" and look back and forth between Athena and Ares, suddenly finding themselves riveted by the spectacle of the two.

"You don't even know me, so kindly refrain from flapping that tongue of yours."

"Oh, I know you alright. You are a reckless, mindless brute who spends his days looking for things to poke the sharp end of sticks into," she responds harshly, stabbing her meat with her fork for emphasis.

Poseidon, who sat on Ares's right, smirked, his first real response to anything the entire dinner.

"Can't exactly say that her description of you is entirely inaccurate, Ares."

Despite Poseidon being Zeus's brother, and therefore Ares's uncle, the two were close in age and seemed to treat one another with familiarity. Ares didn't take too much offense to Poseidon's comment, but perhaps he didn't even hear it as Ares never even looked in his direction. His eyes were trained solely on Athena.

"And how would you know all this?"

"Just consider the way you basically massacred your challengers a fortnight ago at Dionysus's party! The Athenian boy was foolish, yes, but you-"

He narrows his eyes at her. "And you witnessed this when?"

The gears in his head were turning, trying to figure out when she had been there and how he could've missed her.

"I wasn't. But word travels and I heard about it," she lies primly.

He scoffs and shakes his head. "I didn't realize you were such a gossip."

She lets herself breathe a silent exhale of relief that he didn't question her further. She has let herself become careless because of her anger, but try as she might, he brings out the worst in her and she loses her head.

"It's only gossip if it's not the truth," she says. "Do you deny beating the Athenian boy?"

When he doesn't answer, she takes his silence as a confirmation.

"I rest my case."

He narrows his eyes at her. "For the Goddess of Wisdom, you're small-minded and naive," he snarled. "And you are stupid to provoke me."

"I'm not scared of you."

"Then you're even stupider than I thought."

"Well, seeing as you don't tend to give much thought to anything, I couldn't care less about what you think."

"You have a lot to say, little goddess, but I have yet to see anything to be impressed of thus far."

"Are you suggesting a challenge?" she sassed.

"It can only be called a challenge if there's a worthy opponent," he shoots back.

Their argument finally draws Zeus's attention and he looks up from his conversation with Hera to look at them. Zeus clears his throat and they both fall silent, even as they tried to vaporize each other with their eyes. The other gods try and pretend they weren't at all disappointed that he had broken up the fight.

Pleased with their silence, Zeus stands up and once again his presence commands the room.

"It is with you all gathered here that I should like to make the official announcement."

The gods momentarily forget their previous quarrels and dramas, their attention reserved for their king.

"Aphrodite?" Zeus extends his glass towards Aphrodite and gestures her towards him.

She frowns a little, but does as he commands and makes her way to his side. Next, he gestures to Hephaestus, who warily limps his way towards the front of the table.

"I would like to announce tonight's party is not a normal gathering."

The gods all turn towards one another with puzzled expressions.

"It is an engagement party," Zeus proclaims with a smile that didn't seem to quite reach his eyes.

Now everyone was really getting riled up. Athena can already guess what is about to happen, and from the way Aphrodite's eyes widen, her sister seems to have reached the same conclusion.

"It is with my great pleasure, Hephaestus," he says, turning to the Blacksmith God. "That I hereby grant you Aphrodite's hand in marriage."

To guess it was one thing, but to hear Zeus announce it so suddenly was another. Aphrodite looked positively livid. Her hands clench tightly at her sides, her lips pressed together in a hard line.

Zeus, on the other hand, looked completely indifferent and Hephaestus looked slightly stunned.

"May we all toast to the couple."

Zeus reaches for wine glasses and presses them into Aphrodite's and Hephaestus's hands before reaching for his own. The rest of the gods follow suit, although all seemed rather hesitant.

"To a happy marriage!" Zeus bellowed.

Just as Zeus raises his glass to his lips, Aphrodite slams hers hard onto the table where it commenced to shatter into a million little pieces and stomps out of the room. Athena rises from her feet ready to go after her, but Dionysus stops her.

"Don't."

"She's my sister," Athena protests.

"I know she is. And you and I both know that she needs some time to vent alone."

"If you let her vent, she's going to take it out on some innocent bystander. Better to let me handle her. I can take her wrath."

Again, Athena motions to go after Aphrodite, but Dionysus places a hand on her shoulder to still her.

"No. I'll go after her."

Without waiting for her response, Dionysus turns and leaves.

xxx

Aphrodite found herself in Zeus's study and was currently busy destroying the place. Scrolls lay scattered upon the floor, candles are haphazardly knocked over, and various art decors lay smashed at her feet.

"You work fast. Then again, you were always very passionate," Dionysus smirks as he enters the room cautiously, surveying the littered ground.

She pauses in her rampage to look at him.

"Let me guess, Athena sent you to make sure I don't go crazy and destroy everything?"

He raises an eyebrow at her and looks pointedly at the damage she had already caused.

"She wouldn't be wrong. There's a reason why they made her Goddess of Wisdom."

Aphrodite scoffs.

"Of course. Athena is always right," she drawls.

"Actually, she wanted to see you herself, but I volunteered."

She raises her eyebrow at him.

"Oh?"

"You're quite a spectacle when you throw a fit. I didn't want to miss out," he answers easily.

She snorts and crosses her arms. "Weren't you subjected to enough of them? It's the reason we broke up, isn't it?"

"No, the reason we broke up is because you're a cheating, two-timing bitch," he says.

"As if! You're not exactly the model of monogamy, Dionysus. If you don't recall, let me remind you. Let's see," she holds out her hands and begins counting out on her fingers. "Aside from all the random mortals you dally with, there was that witch Circe, the Astakid nymph, oh and of course, there's Ariadne."

Ariadne was a low blow, she knows, but he keeps his face expressionless.

"I think you missed a few, but that's alright," he says nonchalantly.

"Oh, how could I forget the most important one? Athena. Let's not neglect the fact that you deflowered the Virgin Goddess. I'm sure that feat earned you quite a nice notch on your bedpost."

Dionysus's eyes widened slightly. Few knew about his and Athena's short lived tryst. She had been young then and he was more than willing to be the oh-so helpful older, more experienced male friend to educate her ways of adult relationships. That and her first experience with ambrosia had led to a night that made Athena swear off the blasted drink of the gods and forced Dionysus upon pains to his manhood to keep their encounter a secret.

"You look surprised," she grins. "Don't you know by now that I keep tabs on all of Athena's affairs? And from the way you have been intervening in her defense makes me wonder if you actually harbor feelings for her than you'd care to admit."

Dionysus laughs then, taking Aphrodite off guard. While the two of them had shared some intimacy, both Dionysus and Athena's affections for each other ran no further than that of friendship.

"Don't tell me you're jealous?"

"I am not!" Aphrodite insists.

"Yes, you are," he grins. "Although probably for all the wrong reasons… and of the wrong people. You and your sister both have this problem. Must be a family trait."

She shakes her head at him, but their conversation seemed to have distracted her from her previous rage and she seems calmer.

"You were very mean to me today. Cruel, even."

"What? You can dish it, but you can't take it?"

She laughs and her eyes take on that predatory look. She saunters to him, letting her hips sway in that seductive way she knew always worked on him.

"What happened to you? I remember that you've always been so..." her hand creeps up his chest and pauses where his heart beats. "Sweet... like wine."

Her face was close to his, her mouth parted slightly. He can smell the heady scent of her, like velvet roses and temptation. It would be easy to give in to her.

As the Goddess of Love and the God of Wine, their paths often intertwined. They were in a way made for each other. They are both lonely souls in crowded rooms, in search of intimacy in all the wrong places. Often times thinking they'll find it in the embrace of a lover or at the bottom of a bottle of wine. Thinking that in the heat of the moment, in the mind numbing buzz of the alcohol, they can fill the void in their hearts.

He inclines his head as if to kiss her, his hand coming up to close over hers where it rests on his chest. Just one kiss and they could pick up where they left off.

"Even wine goes sour if it's been left to air for too long," he whispers before shoving her away.

The problem with making love and alcohol was that he never did enjoy the hangovers of the morning-afters. And with Aphrodite, the pleasure of the night always came with double the pain after.

She glares at him, wounded from the rejection.

"I came to check to see if you were alright and because Athena was worried. But I think I can tell her to rest assured. The blushing bride-to-be is at the top of her form."

Dionysus turns to leave when he sees Zeus standing at the doorway. Aphrodite's jaw clenches when she sees her father. Dionysus bows silently to his king and continues his way out. Zeus doesn't even seem to acknowledge his departure. His eyes are locked on Aphrodite's.

"You caused a scene during dinner. I would've thought that you'd know better than to embarrass me in front of-"

Aphrodite interrupts him with a snort. "Of course. You go ahead and marry me off without even consulting me and I'm the one getting the lecture? Well, you know what? Why don't you go-"

"Watch your tone with me, Aphrodite. I am your father! And king! Show more respect!" He roars, picking up a vase and throwing it against the opposite wall. It crashes behind Aphrodite, exploding in a rain of jagged bits and pieces. Aphrodite flinches at his rage, but holds her ground.

"You're always like this! It's the reason why I had to marry you off!" Zeus rages on. "If you had been more like Athena-"

The comparison to Athena snaps Aphrodite out of her stunned silence.

"Of course! Athena! Perfect, little Athena," she sneers. "You've always loved Athena best!"

"Maybe because she carries herself with more dignity. Rather than prancing about like a-"

"Like what? A whore?" Aphrodite snarls at him. "You're one to talk. Who haven't you slept with? It's no wonder Hera hates you."

She's about to say more, but before she could, Zeus slaps her hard across the cheek.

Angry tears stream down her face as she raises her hand to cover the place where he had struck her.

"I hate you!" she screams. She spins around quickly to storm out of the room, but Hera's presence at the doorway stops her.

The older goddess walks over to her, an expression of concern on her face. Hera softly smoothes her hair with a gentle hand, the gesture is soft like a mother's touch.

"Come, Aphrodite. Let's get you cleaned up."

To Zeus, she sends a look of disapproval before leading young Aphrodite away. Zeus turns his back on them and doesn't watch as his wife leads his daughter away.

xxx

The dinner party had imploded after the engagement announcement. Dionysus had come back, pulling Athena away from Hermes and Persephone to update her on the status of Aphrodite's well-being.

Despite Dionysus's reassurances, Athena was still worried. She knew her sister, and in spite of the hell Aphrodite has put her through, she was still her sister. And this was more important than their petty pranks and games. This was Aphrodite's future, and while she had nothing against Hephaestus, she knew this match to be calamitous in the making.

She hunts through the hallways until finally, she recognizes Aphrodite's voice coming from one of the rooms. She makes her way towards the direction of the voice, arriving in front of a large arch that was covered by a heavy curtain. She's about to push the curtain aside and enter, but the sound of a second voice stops her and she pauses with her hand outstretched.

"What do you want me to say, Aphrodite?"

"Tell Zeus that I cannot marry Hephaestus!" Athena hears Aphrodite scream.

"And why not?" is the cold response.

"Why not? Why not?"

Athena recognizes the shrill tone in Aphrodite's voice to be extreme agitation. She winces for whoever it was that was in the room with her.

"Because I don't think Zeus would appreciate finding out that his brother was fucking his daughter!"

Athena's eyes widen and she hazards a peek to confirm her suspicions. On the other side, Poseidon stood before Aphrodite.

xxx

Athena's head was spinning. Poseidon and Aphrodite. It didn't make sense, but in a strange way… it did. Poseidon was the reason why Aphrodite had taken so many pains to hide her new lover. Why the need for distraction and their little switch-a-roo routine at Dionysus's party. To carry on affairs with the other gods and mortals was one thing, but this was Poseidon. He was their uncle! Nobody ever boasted that the Gods have a drama-free family dynamic, but this coupling could possibly tear Olympus apart. Zeus can stand a lot of things, but Athena highly doubted that her father would find this pairing acceptable.

All the dots were starting to connect, but she hadn't had time to process it all when Aphrodite bursts out of the room and nearly runs her over.

"You!"

"Aphrodite, I-"

"Don't bother pretending to be a saint," Aphrodite snaps. "You meant for this to happen!"

"What? I didn't!"

"You're not as good as everyone thinks you are. I know what you've done."

"What? I've done nothing!"

"Don't play dumb, Athena. It doesn't become you. I always knew you could be calculating and I always knew you were jealous of me, but I never thought you could stoop so low."

Athena snorts and crosses her arms defensively over her chest. "You are talking like a crazy person. I don't know what you're talking about."

Her obvious confusion doesn't faze Aphrodite in the least. Her sister's expression remained just as vengeful as before.

"You can deny it all you want. And everyone would probably believe you over me because you're the goody-two-shoes and I'm the raging psychotic bitch. But don't think for a second I'm going to let this go. You're not as good as everyone thinks you are. You forget that I'm privy to all your dirty little secrets. And don't even make me start on your little human pet. Let's see how well Zeus will take to his favorite daughter consorting with mortals."

Logic told her that she shouldn't get riled up. That Aphrodite was speaking from a place of anger and irrationality. That she should keep a cool head and not stoop to satisfy her petty irritation and fall prey to Aphrodite's provocation. But she doesn't listen to the voice in her head. And this is one of the few moments in which her emotions win over her overwhelming rationality.

"Oh, grow up, Aphrodite! Don't forget that I went to Dionysus's party to help you. And it was so you can go prance around with our uncle," Athena whispers the last part, still feeling a little uncomfortable with the latest revelation. "And don't bring Diomedes into this! He's not a part of this at all."

Aphrodite laughs darkly. "You care about him. That's enough for me." She takes a step forward to whisper hotly into Athena's ear, "All that you care about, I will rip them away from you."  
Before Athena can make a comeback, Aphrodite shoves past her, disappearing for the millionth time that night.

At this moment, they're both too rooted to their own self-righteous anger and pity to see the mechanisms at work. How the Fates were spinning a web that they've all been caught up in. When Athena closes her eyes and sifts through her memories, she'll recall Aphrodite's face and realize this was the night she regrets most. All the lives that would be destroyed and lost in the outcome of her rivalry with her sister could have been averted had she heeded her logical side that night.

The sound of Aphrodite's clicking footsteps echoes through the halls, each step resonating within Athena's bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Regarding Hephaestus, his role was incredibly difficult to cast, but in the end I decided to put a twist on his story. Originally I had John Gilbert casted as him, but decided to go with Mason Lockwood instead. Mostly because of how Katherine had used Mason for her own means will sort of foreshadow how Aphrodite will in turn use Hephaestus. As for the casting of Artemis and Apollo I had originally casted Rebekah and Jeremy, but after 3x14 I really liked the idea of Rebekah and Kol as twins. I also decided on Jenna as Demeter since I thought with Alaric as Hades it would be interesting to kind of allude to a past fling between Demeter and Hades only to have him now interested in her daughter. The relationships between the gods are pretty much effed up… as they should be. XD
> 
> Overall, I am rather pleased with the turn out of this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it. Looking forward to sharing my next installment because serious Athena/Ares things as well as Diomedes things will be finally taking place. Thanks again to all who are following this fic, liking and reviewing and commenting. I wouldn't be able to do it without you guys! And I definitely wouldn't be able to do it without my beta, Paige (skerdypants). Thank you! Wow I talk a lot...


	5. Part V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:Alright, beware. This will be an awfully long Author's Note.
> 
> First off, wow it's been a VERY long time since I last updated. I'm so sorry for the delay. I did not mean to abandon this fic, but it IS a difficult fic to write since so much research and world building is involved. And then there's the issue of RL taking its toll on me. Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you to all of those that have been reviewing, liking and sending me msgs of encouragement and support. I really appreciate all of you taking the time to let me know what you think of this fic or just letting me know that you enjoy it. =)
> 
> In regards to the tense of this fic, I apologize for the occasional confusion. This is because sometimes I write with the idea that Athena or Ares are looking back on the events that are transpiring in this fic as memories (as this is the prequel to IN LOVE AND WAR and the story will inevitably merge with ILAW, with ILAW technically being the "present" and everything in AF will be the "past") and I don't always make it apparent when they do this. And other times I just happen to be a bad writer and mess up my tenses. _ Forgive me. It is hell for my beta, Paige, (she's the one that makes this fic kinda sorta readable...) and I can't believe that she's willing to put up with this shit. THANK YOU PAIGE!
> 
> And since it's been so long since the last time I updated here's where we last left our heroes...
> 
> Zeus had decided to hold a family dinner and all of the Olympian gods are invited. Ares still has no idea that it was Athena, not Aphrodite, who was the girl in the ivory mask. Aphrodite "introduces" Ares and Athena to each other. The two are face to face for the first time and sparks fly (and nearly some silverware). They share a rivalry due to their history of championing opposite sides of the mortals' wars. There is a lot of tension between all the gods and the conversation gets heated between Athena and Ares. Particularly when the topic of Diomedes' upcoming tournament to celebrate his coronation emerges. Zeus finally reveals the reason for the gathering and announces that it is an engagement party for Aphrodite and Hephaestus, much to Aphrodite's dismay. Aphrodite is angry with Zeus for favoring Athena and using marriage as a way to cage her. Aphrodite runs off and when Athena goes after her she discovers Aphrodite with Poseidon. It turns out that the two have been having a secret affair and Poseidon was the one Aphrodite was sneaking out to see at the party where Ares and Athena first met with Athena under the guise of Aphrodite. The two sisters get into a fight that ends with Aphrodite storming off.
> 
> And without further ado, please enjoy Part V of ALL'S FAIR.
> 
> Character/Gods Counterpart Reference List:  
> Athena - Caroline, Ares – Klaus , Aphrodite – Katherine, Diomedes – Stefan, Poseidon - Elijah, Cadmus- Jeremy

They say the bond of sisterhood is unshakable, but at the moment, Athena and Aphrodite are but tides beating upon the shore. Tumultuous. Rising one moment and falling, breaking against the cragged rocks the next.

"Athena."

The call of her name shakes her from her reverie. She had been rooted to the spot, watching the invisible shifting of air left in Aphrodite's wake. She knew her sister to be petty and irrational, but her threats and accusations sting like a sea soaked sore. Athena blinks away the tears from her eyes and turns to her addresser.

Poseidon smiles at her, looking not at all perturbed for someone who had just been caught having an affair with their niece.

"Poseidon," she replies warily.

She dips slightly in a stiff bow to the elder god. Her eyes are downcast, but he lifts her chin up with a hand, forcing her to meet his gaze. Usually Athena finds herself unable to decipher the Sea God's inexplicable expressions, but there's a stern quality in his eyes that she can easily discern.

"It goes without saying that idle tongues can lead to unnecessary discord. But I needn't remind the Goddess of Wisdom of such aphorism. You must know them better than I."

His tone was calm and even, but the warning rang true and clear.

"I understand," Athena replies, obediently reciting the answer she knows he wants to hear.

Despite her quarrel with Aphrodite, she knew better than to reveal the secret she had discovered. She was still young for a goddess, and should Poseidon wish, he can easily demonstrate to her what the name "Earth-Shaker" truly entails.

He smiles at her, satisfied.

"Don't take Aphrodite's words to heart. You know how she is when she's upset," Poseidon says comfortingly, as if she is the one who is in need of counsel on Aphrodite's behavior.

His sudden change is disconcerting. His ability to switch demeanors in less time than it takes for a change in the weather is both impressive and frightening.

"She's right to be upset. It's not my place to question you, uncle." Athena places the emphasis on the 'uncle' with a hint of chastisement which earns her Poseidon's amusement. "But as you have reminded me of some pearls of wisdom, I only find it appropriate to remind you of the same."

He continues to smile, but his eyes harden and there is a twitch to his jaw. The look is enough to reprimand her. He was her elder and she had spoken out of turn.

"Do not give so much thought to other's troubles, Athena. You have more than your share of your own. You've tested the God of War's temper tonight."

She recognizes a deflection easily enough, but she has already pushed her boundaries one too many times tonight, so she takes his bait.

"I can handle Ares."

"Before Wisdom, there was War. Be wary, Athena. One does not tread on a snake and not expect it to strike back."

"Who is to say that he is the snake and not the one to tread?" she retorts.

Her reply earns her a grin.

"Only the gods would know."

"We are gods, Poseidon."

He lets out an exhale that sounded half like a laugh. "So we are..."

There's something almost remorseful in his statement that catches Athena off guard. The bemusement must read on her face because Poseidon is giving her a small indulgent smile.

"We are not all the glamorous beings the mortals make us out to be. The humans, they are envious of our immortality. But little do they know… allmen's souls are immortal, but it is the souls of the righteous that are immortal and divine [i]. I know not yet the state of my soul."

"You're not making sense to me."

"Of course not; you are young."

"I'm a hundred and seventy," Athena points out.

"My mistake," He grins. "You're infantile."

A human decade was barely a year for a god in their formative years. And once they've reached their peak, they merely stopped aging. They just existed, for eternity. It is a concept that Athena understands theoretically, but at times, she finds herself jealous of the mortals who can experience a whole expanse of emotions and wisdom through the natural aging process.

There's a long moment of silence, but this time it's not loaded. He was his usual calm, contemplative self once more, the Poseidon that she had always known and respected. She almost forgets that she's supposed to be mad and disappointed in him.

"Can I just ask why?" she ventures.

"Why what?"

"Why Aphrodite? You could have anyone. Why her?"

"If I could have anyone, why not her?" he counters.

"You know what I mean," Athena sighs. "You know how she is. Surely this was not an affair that was made to last. I just thought that you, of all people, would realize that."

"Do not judge, Athena."

"I'm not!" she protests. "She's the Goddess of Love. I know that better than anyone. When stung by a scorpion, one cannot scorn it for its temper. It is merely acting as is in its nature. Everyone else thinks she's fickle and petty and, yes, so maybe she is. But all the lovers and all the affairs, she has loved them all in her own way."

"And who is to say they haven't loved her back?"

She blinks, taken aback by his answer.

"Do you...?"

He looks away and sighs. "It's late, Athena. You should hurry on home. Perhaps Aphrodite would have cooled off by now. You should attend to her."

She knew a dismissal when she heard one. And even if she didn't, Poseidon had already turned his back on her.

She watches as he walks out into the courtyard and towards the cliffs where the tides crashed against toothy rocks. He approaches the edge and leaps into the sea. The torrents quickly swallow him up, leaving nothing but sea foam in his wake.

xxx

She's nearly sprinting down Olympus in her haste to get out of there before she somehow gets humiliated further. Tears sting her eyes, but she refuses to brush them away. To do so would be to admit that they were real, and she was currently in adamant denial.

It wasn't enough that Zeus had decided to foist her off in some cruel arranged marriage, for Dionysus, who used to worship the ground of which she walked upon, to reject her. But Athena - smart, beautiful Athena - had borne witness to it all. Her cheeks flared hot in the memory.

Aphrodite was not as obtuse as she lets on. She knew her reputation, even relished in it on occasion. It provided an excuse to do as she wished without fearing the consequences more virtuous maidens would endure.

But as with every double-edged sword, her reputation came with a caveat. And Zeus had seen to it that her leash was in place. She recalls then her conversation with Hera.

"How can you stand him? He's horrible."

"He loves you, Aphrodite."

She had scoffed then. "You confuse me for Athena. She's the only one he actually cares for. She is his one pride and joy. And the more she excels, the more his ego is fed. She is the perfect daughter that Zeus and Zeus alone created."

Hera's mouth was a tight, firm line. Her hand was on Aphrodite's arm, gently stroking it.

"Do not think harshly of your sister. I know you two have your rivalries, but she only means well. When she spoke to Zeus-"

"She what?"

Hera had clammed up then, which only further provoked her.

"What did Athena talk to Zeus about?" Aphrodite pressed.

Hera was silent for a moment before answering, choosing her words carefully.

"You must remember that she meant well, Aphrodite. You know that her intent is always for your happiness. She is young and has not yet come into her full powers, and may have not acted as wisely as she should."

"Just tell me what she said to Zeus."

Hera sighed. "It was Zeus who sought her counsel. It had been an off-hand remark, and she merely mentioned that perhaps if you were settled, you would be less rebellious. I'm sure she did not think that Zeus would take it to heart or that he would take such rash actions regarding your nuptial affairs."

"She did not think Zeus would take it to heart," Aphrodite repeats. "She's the Goddess of Wisdom, how can she possibly think her words have no influence over him?! You said it yourself that he was seeking her counsel!"

"She wasn't thinking."

Aphrodite had laughed then, a cold, humorless laugh. "No, she was. She was. She was thinking about how to ruin my life."

Despite the confidence and the facade of indifference towards wagging tongues, Aphrodite was not entirely impervious to scorn. She was no stranger to them and had thus grown a thick skin to endure the gossip mongers and their poisoned words. Nonetheless, the rumors and hushed whispers would occasionally break through the armor she built to keep them at bay, bringing dark thoughts to her head. And yet, even though she has occasionally fallen to her insecurities before, she had always managed to brush them off and stand tall. It wasn't in her nature to wallow in misery behest other's judgments. Yet Athena's betrayal was a rusted knife, stabbing her in the chest.

Athena had always been the reliable one, the dependable one, the good one. Even in their darkest moments, Aphrodite had believed she could trust her sister; she thought her incapable of treachery. And yet here was proof that even the virtuous Athena was not quite the fair maiden that everyone thought.

And what added salt to the wound was Poseidon.

Poseidon, whom she had always admired from afar. Who had always held the allure of the forbidden. Who she had thought had somehow, inexplicably, become hers in some wonderful twist of fate. It had been the look in his eyes. It was different from the lusty gazes she often received. This... this is love, she had thought. And isn't love exactly her domain?

Why is it then that it continues to elude her? Like sand slipping through open fingers.

She realized belatedly now that fate has been twisted indeed.

She's been made a fool. Not once, but twice. The humiliation is unbearable.

She doesn't watch where she is going, and her feet slip on the cobbled stones. She braces herself for the fall when a pair of strong arms catches her, swooping in to save her before she hits the ground.

She turns and her eyes widen when she recognizes Ares as her unexpected savior.

"You should be more careful."

Her mouth parts slightly as he helps her stand on her own two feet once more. His hands are steady and his words gentle, a direct contradiction to his usual nature. She never expected him capable of being a gentleman, and the shock must show on her face because a smile grows on his. She suddenly remembers the tear tracks down her face and tries to subtly wipe away their existence from her cheeks, feeling embarrassed to have him see her at her lowest.

"I... thank you," she says lamely.

It was a rare occasion for the Goddess of Love to be at a loss for words. Even when she was being foolish or wrong (or both), Aphrodite always carried herself with stubborn certainty.

He nods perfunctorily and releases her. She can't help but wish he hadn't. She's tempted to pretend to falter again, if only to get him to wrap his arms around her once more. She has had enough rejection for tonight, and she could very well fall into Ares's strong and comforting arms.

Her gaze lingers down his muscled biceps and then over his broad chest before resting upon his face. He is unshaven, but it suits him. He is indeed a handsome specimen of a God. She knows this; she had flirted with him all night, though it was mostly for Poseidon's benefit and to provoke Athena. Now bathed in the moonlight and with the memory of his arms wrapped around her, he seemed even more appealing.

"Anxious to leave the party?"

His words snap her out of her thoughts, jolting her back to reality. She lets out a small grunt of disdain.

"After that fiasco? Zeus is lucky I don't burn the place down."

He chuckles. "I take it you are not too enthused by your pending nuptials."

She answers by arching one eyebrow at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"Zeus is an idiot if he thinks he can make me dance like a puppet and leap to his every ridiculous command."

"He is the king."

"He is also an ass."

"That is treasonous talk."

"Are you going to report me?"

It's his turn now, and his right brow arches upwards, mirroring hers as he regards her with mild amusement.

"Zeus is my liege."

She lets out a rude snort, which is oddly uncharacteristic of her usual sultry behavior, and it makes him grin genuinely.

"But that does not mean I agree with all that he dictates," he finishes.

She smiles and resumes her haughty tone.

"Well, he's my father. Which is even worse than just being my king."

"I wouldn't know," he answers.

His tone is casual, but there's a certain stiffness that overcomes his expression.

"Count yourself lucky," Aphrodite assures him.

He answers her with silence, a hardness setting into his eyes.

"I do not care to stay on Olympus tonight," she says, breaking the silence. "Would you escort me down?"

For a moment, he does not speak and she thinks he is going to say no, but then he extends his arm to her. She smiles as she takes it.

xxx

Athena finds Aphrodite arriving home early the next morning, but her sister refuses to exchange more than a few words with her. Despite her wishful thinking, Aphrodite's anger has not quelled.

"Where have you been?"

"I was with Ares."

"Doing what?"

A sly smile graces the Goddess of Love's lips. "Oh, Athena. Hasn't anyone ever told you that you shouldn't kiss and tell? Not that there was only kissing involved."

Athena's cheeks flush a bright shade of red, the exact reaction Aphrodite had been taunting her for.

"I was worried."

Somehow it's this mere statement that makes Aphrodite's blood boil. Her smug expression sours, a scowl spoiling her beautiful face.

"Save your playacting for Zeus. I don't need your false pretenses of sisterly affection," Aphrodite snarls.

Aphrodite's trailing robe slaps Athena's arms as if to punctuate her dismissal, as the scarlet goddess pushes past her.

This would be the last conversation they have for many moons.

Aphrodite goes missing again for several days. Twelve to be exact. Athena had taken precise count of each rise and fall of the sun and moon for each morning she woke to find Aphrodite not in her bed.

It was not unusual for her to disappear for long periods of time, but in light of recent events, Athena felt apprehensive over her sister's absence. She didn't like to think that their relationship has been severed irreparably due to whatever misunderstanding that had occurred over Zeus's dinner.

Her anxiety does not go unnoticed by Diomedes. She had hoped that preoccupying herself with his affairs of the states would distract her. But more often than not, her squabble with Aphrodite left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

"What is this ridiculous proposal? Do you counselors know nothing? Do they merely sit in their chambers, drinking wine, and waste papyrus concocting such asinine ideas?" she snaps, tossing a scroll to the floor.

Diomedes winces and glances up from his own pile of parchment to give her a pointed look.

"You are not in a very good mood."

"Are you a mood reader now, Diomedes?"

"No, but I can read you well enough. You've spent the last hour ripping apart all of the irrigation plans my council has come up with."

"That's because they are all stupid," she replies tartly.

Diomedes gives her an indulgent smile and fights against the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. For the Goddess of Wisdom, Athena can at times act very childish.

"They will be the source of your ruin," she adds.

"Youwill be the source of my ruin," Diomedes retorts.

She looks up from the new scrolls she's been scowling at and meets his gaze. For a moment, his breath is caught in his throat. He had forgotten his place and has just slighted a goddess. Catastrophes and havoc have rained down on the heads of others for smaller infractions.

He was a mere mortal. A king, perhaps, but a mortal nonetheless. And she was Athena, an Olympian Goddess. He should be sprawled at her feet, begging her for mercy right now. That is if she does not remove his head from his neck in the very next moment.

"Forgive m-" he begins.

But before he can finish his apology, she laughs. The sound rings like bells throughout the room.

"I've been a terrible witch this entire day, haven't I?"

And with just that laugh, he forgets the divide between them. Forgets the line between gods and mere mortals. She is Athena and she is his friend. And within the privacy of the innermost chambers of his heart, she was beyond a statue to worship. She was warm, affectionate, clever, and funny. And she was, he will arrogantly admit only to his deepest of subconscious, his.

The gods may call it hubris, but he is no fool and he has long recognized Athena's favoritism towards him. And though he would never speak of it aloud, he coveted her affections.

He then recalls the first time they met. He had been twelve years old, a mere boy. His father was the mighty Tydeus, Warrior King of Argos. He was the only son and heir. As such, he had to be shielded from the dangers of the world. Like expensive silks, rare spices, and other precious commodities, he had been locked within the palace walls. The other children, mostly sons and daughters of servants, were kind enough to him. But they knew their place and so kept well away from him unless to attend to one of his needs. He had contented himself with his studies, with his training. He was going to be a soldier, like his father.

He thought not beyond sword practice, history scrolls, and his lessons. And he excelled. He was a prodigy, a son his father could be proud of. But even in his excellence, he could not deny the simple fact: he was lonely. And on a rather stormy night, when his father had ridden off to fight yet another battle, he had prayed at the altar of the Goddess Athena. She was the patron goddess of warriors, soldiers, and champions after all. If there was anyone to bring his father back home to safety, it would be her. But in between his prayers for the king, he slipped in a selfish prayer of his own. The day after, his father returned with another victory to his name. And so Diomedes attributed his safe homecoming to the goddess.

And so it went for an entire year that every time Tydeus went to battle, Diomedes would pray at the altar of Athena. It started to become such a regular ritual that Diomedes found himself confessing more to the goddess, carrying on one-sided conversations with her likeness as one would to a friend. He knew it was a fruitless endeavor, but it staved away the loneliness. He never realized that she actually listened.

"Are you listening to me, Diomedes?"

His memories fade back into the ocean of his mind and he snaps back to attention, meeting Athena's quizzical look.

"What were you thinking about?"

He gives her a small smile.

"About the first time we met," he answers honestly.

Her mouth curves upwards in a similar grin. "When I transformed into the merchant's daughter."

"When you answered my prayers," he corrects her. "I had been lonely until you came."

"Oh, please. You were the Argive prince. You were surrounded by subjects and the like. I'm surprised Tydeus even allowed the lowly daughter of a spice peddler to play with his heir. I was just a village girl."

Diomedes laughs. "Charaxos [ii] is no mere spice peddler, and you were a goddess in disguise. My father always had a sixth sense of when the immortals were at work. But even I knew that there was something special about you. It was as if your godliness radiated from your pores. No matter your disguise, I would recognize you."

She smiles, pleased with his compliments.

"I always wondered what the Goddess of Wisdom saw in that lonesome boy to indulge him in his selfish wishes."

It was her turn now to recall the prayers of the beautiful, smart, brave boy who prayed for his father's safe return every fortnight. She had been cautious of interacting with mortals in the past, but there had been something about Diomedes that drew her out. A quality in him that she admired, that called out to her. So, she answered. The reason why was actually quite simple.

She touches his cheek and looks at him through lowered lashes. "Perhaps I was lonely as well."

He leans against her touch. "Then I am glad we have found one another."

xxx

Diomedes was a good distraction, but not good enough. After the thirteenth night of her sister's absence, Athena decides that she has grown weary of Aphrodite's cold temper.

She braids her hair into a crown, taking care to pin down every loose tendril neatly to her head. She dons a simple chiton [iii], made of light cotton. Save for her armor and helmet, she's dressed for battle. Not that she expects to be engaging in any actual physical altercation with Aphrodite - at least she hopes it wouldn't amount to that - but the outfit gives her the confidence she needs.

With a final glance in the mirror, Athena smiles at her reflection and marches forward.

xxx

Walking into Ares's domain gives her the feeling akin to a lamb venturing into a lion's lair. Her heart is racing and she has to remind herself that she was no lamb to Ares's lion. And so, she steels herself and takes step after step further into the dwelling of the God of War.

The compound is cleaner than she had imagined. She had expected bloodstains and signs of debauchery. But the floors are swept, and while there is a plethora of weapons and armor scattered about, they are artfully displayed. There's even a few murals painted on the walls.

She is admiring one of a naval battle when she gets nearly impaled by a flying sword. She quickly jerks to the side and it embeds itself into the stone column behind her.

She whips her head towards the direction the sword was flung and notices Ares in the courtyard across from the open air hall. He is standing over another male who lies prone on the floor, his sword at his opponent's neck.

"You best hold onto your sword better than that if you wish to win the upcoming tournament, Cadmus [iv]," Ares says to the man, a smug grin gracing his face.

Ares removes his sword and offers the man his hand. He takes it, and Ares hauls him up. Athena recognizes him now. Cadmus, the former Phoenician prince and the founder of Thebes. Cadmus sighs, but there's a grin on his face.

"Perhaps I was going easy on you to save you the humiliation of defeat when you have a guest in the audience," Cadmus replies.

Ares seems startled by Cadmus's comment and looks up, noticing her for the first time. Sweat and dirt streak his face, but he looks all the more handsome for it.

"You're developing hubris, Cadmus. You've been practicing wagging your tongue more than your footwork. And you best be wise to show the lady some respect. It seems that you've nearly beheaded the goddess Athena."

Ares's eyes have not left hers. His gaze is steady and intense. From the corner of her eyes, she sees the ex-Phoenician prince's eyes widen before he sinks to his knees.

"Forgive me, highest Athena. I was clumsy with my sword and I-"

Athena tears her gaze away from Ares to smile towards Cadmus.

"Rise, honorable Cadmus. You have done me no harm," she assures him.

Even if the sword did strike her, weapons wielded by mortals would have no effect on her. That's one of the benefits of immortality. Few things can fatally wound her. She has little to fear from the mortals. It is her fellow gods that she must be wary of. With that thought in mind, her eyes settle back on Ares.

"Yes, but he has marred my furnishing," Ares sighs. "I think that is enough for today. You are dismissed, Cadmus."

Cadmus bows once more to Athena in farewell before turning to Ares and kneeling before him. Ares waves his hand over the mortal's bowed head and he vanishes. A swirl of dust and a pair of footprints in the dirt is the only thing that indicated that he was ever there at all.

"You allow mortals to visit you in Olympus?" Athena asks, once the dust has settled.

"Cadmus owes me a debt and thus for the next eight years, he is in my service."

"Of course..."

It was silly of her to think that Ares would consider any mortal, King of Thebes or not, anything more than a servant.

Ares takes a step towards her and she is instantly on alert. His expression is inscrutable and she can feel her heart beat faster, her limbs stiffening, as he advances.

His face is barely a few inches away from hers when he extends his hand as if to touch her face. Her breath catches and she feels the cold of the marble against her back. She didn't even realize that she had been backing away on instinct. His fingers are near her cheek when they brush past her to pull out Cadmus's wayward sword from the column behind. He takes a step back, sword gripped tightly in hand, and she softly lets out a breath she was holding.

They fall into a tense silence as he goes through the motions of wiping down his blade, ignoring her completely until the task is done. She has a mind to speak first, but the silence felt like a challenge and she didn't want to be the one to break it.

"What brings you here, Athena?" He says finally, squinting as he inspects the shine on his sword. "Is it wise for you to venture so far from the safety of your scrolls and books?" he jibes, gesturing with his hand towards the direction of her own quarters on the other side of Olympus. He's finally looking away from his sword and at her again.

"I'm here to find my sister," she says simply.

"You've just missed her," he answers quickly. "She is not here."

"Why does it seem like you're merely saying that to get rid of me?"

He snorts. "It's true. Whether you want to believe it or not. I wouldn't waste my time concocting lies."

Athena rolls her eyes. "Did Aphrodite say where she was going?"

"I'm not her keeper," he shrugs. "She comes in the evenings and leaves when the sun rises. But if you would like to inquire about her nocturnal activities, I would be happy to elaborate," he smirks.

"I choose to remain ignorant, thank you very much," she answers primly. He is trying to upset her and she refuses to give him the satisfaction.

"Then if we're done here, why don't you go back home and pick a pretty dress to wear for the upcoming tournament? You're interrupting my practice. The tournament means more to some of us than just a spectacle and entertainment."

The comment makes her skin prickle.

"You continue to antagonize me. One would think you bear a grudge. If this is about your ships-"

"That," Ares interrupts, "was carelessness. I would not waste time mulling over one insignificant loss. Not with the multitude of victories in my belt."

He squares his shoulders and there is an arrogant tilt to his head. She has a mind to knock it askew.

"Gnôthi seautón. Know thyself, Ares. Hubris is not a malady that only the mortals suffer."

He continues to pretend to be inspecting his sword as he addresses her. "You let that tongue of yours run wild, Athena."

He pauses in his work and glances up at her, his eyes predatory.

"I have a mind to tame it."

There's something carnal about his threat. His words make her think of a whole different arena that takes place upon sheets and pillows instead of sea and desert. She swallows nervously. Her mouth has gone dry and she licks her lips, attempting to wet it.

He smiles at her, but it seems crueler than his grimace. "True, you have bested me once. I do not deny that your wit is admirable. But that was in strategy. Do you really think you could overcome me in physical battle?"

Something about him makes her avoid her own advice. Turns her haughty, eggs her on. Filling her with the urge to humble him, defeat him, shake him like he has shaken her.

"I do not think it, I can demonstrate it. Just give me a sword."

"Careful, young Athena. I might take that as a challenge."

"Perhaps you should," she replies.

He pauses for a moment, struck by a mischievous thought. "Then I would accept."

Something about the glint in his smile makes her want to shiver, but she suppresses the urge.

"How about a wager to make it interesting?" He asks.

There's a raise to his eyebrows that seem to taunt her, as if daring her to take the bait. She realizes that a bet with the God of War would never end well, but she seems to be on a collision course with her better judgment.

"I think beating you up would be interesting in itself," she drawls. "But I'll bite. What did you have in mind?"

"At the tournament in two days... the loser will circle the city four times carrying the banner of the opposing team," he tells her.

Athena scoffs and opens her mouth to comment on the lukewarm wager when Ares continues.

"Naked," he adds with a wolfish grin.

She blinks at him for several moments before speaking.

"That is ridiculous."

"A bit of a prude, are we?"

"Just because I'm not an exhibitionist doesn't make me a prude!" she shoots back, her voice's pitch reaching a high note that is only activated in extreme annoyance.

"Well, if you are that afraid of losing-"

"I am not afraid of anything. Fine, I accept your wager. It would be my pleasure to see you walk around town with only the Athens banner to cover your scrawny ass."

Ares laughs as she wanders over to the weapons display to pick a sword. She tests several blades' weight against her hand before settling on one. Ares watches her over the rim of a wine cup.

"Do you often drink before a fight?" She asks, selecting a suitably sized shield and helmet to fit her slighter frame.

"Only when I anticipate a boring fight. The wine will make it more interesting. You should not complain, I'm giving you an advantage."

"I don't need an advantage," she snaps.

"Don't worry."

He drains his cup and sets it back on the table, replacing it with his sword.

"The wine is weak. And I will not go easy on you just because you're Aphrodite's sister," he grins as he unsheathes his sword.

She slaps the visor of her helmet down over her face and goes into fight stance. He finds it almost cute how serious she is.

"And don't think I won't knock you down on your ass just because... well because I can!"

She hates how flustered she is. She's supposed to be the Goddess of Wisdom and Intellect for goodness sake, and here she is stumbling for even a good comeback!

He laughs and it only makes her angrier.

They circle each other, sizing one another up.

He jabs with his sword and she parries it. The weight of the blow numbs her arm. He's strong, too strong. She will have to rely on her agility to stay on her toes. They spar for a few more minutes, but for every counter she has, he has another attack.

"Not bad," he admits. "For a girl."

He's not the God of War for nothing. He is ruthless and relentless. She's the strategist. And while she can evade his blows, her strength is not up to par.

Sparks fly as his sword continues to rain down on her shield. She's pushed to the defensive and is growing tired from physical exertion. It's when he pushes her to her limits that she sees it, an opening.

She lunges towards him, faking a jab to his left, and when he goes to defend it, she strikes him at the right. She did tell him before that he often leaves his right side open when he's feeling arrogant. The blow knocks him backwards and she sees victory in her grasp. She has her sword at his throat. His sword lay on the ground besides his feet.

They are both panting hard. Her arms are tired and her legs feel like liquid. It took all that she had to bring him down. And even with his arms raised in the typical stance of surrender, she still didn't feel accomplished. He has on a smug smile.

"I didn't realize that you wanted to see me naked so badly," he mocks.

Her face flushes from more than just exertion as the memory of a very naked Ares arises in her head.

"I do not!" she protests.

She's distracted for just a moment, but one moment is enough. He uses that as an opportunity to kick her feet out from under her. She lands on her back with a thud, the air knocked from her lungs. And in that split moment, his body is above hers, his sword at her neck and hers kicked clear across the room. The tables were now turned.

He has her pinned and, despite her best efforts, he does not budge.

"Let go of me!" she screams.

"Only if you admit defeat," he answers casually.

She tries one last time to squirm out of his hold, but it's futile.

"I... I surrender."

She nearly chokes on the words, and she can sense him smiling behind his helmet.

He buries his sword into the ground besides her head, making her flinch, before whipping his helmet off.

He reaches down to do the same to her helmet, sending her hair flying in all directions. She huffily blows away at a strand that had fallen over her eye. Her carefully done braids have been all undone.

He's once again startled by the sheer beauty of her. With Aphrodite, it is expected. Aphrodite is sultry and sensual. Her beauty is in its perfection. But with Athena, he's constantly surprised. It's a tempestuous sort of loveliness. Her diamond sharp eyes contrast with the porcelain of her skin. She looks positively glowing with the rosy hue of physical activity despite the unruly sweat soaked hair and the smudge of dirt on her brow. He's so lost in examining her face that he almost forgets his victory.

"I've won," he smirks.

"It shouldn't count. I had you and y-you distracted me!"

"In war, there are always distractions. You can't ever let your guard down."

She realizes then that the right hand opening had been a fake. He had thought an extra step ahead of her. She's been outwitted, and she can't help but feel humbled by the realization.

"And it counts, love, because you surrendered," he points out; the glee is barely constrained in his voice.

How she dearly wished to sock him in the face. Alas, he still had her hands pinned to the ground.

"But I'll admit that I'm impressed. If it weren't for your hesitation, you just might have had an upper-hand. Still, that's the difference between you and me."

"What? Because you're a ruthless brute who will do whatever it takes to add another victory notch to his belt?" she snarls.

He brushes a hand along her jaw and tilts her chin up with his finger. The gesture makes her heart race and she tries to shove him away. But he's stronger and he holds her down.

He has on an infuriating smirk that makes her hand itch to slap.

"Are you always this fierce? Or is this spitfire act of yours distinctive in relation to just me?"

She scoffs. "Don't think so highly of yourself."

He laughs and finally lets go of her. She quickly pushes herself off the ground. He has bested her, mocked her, and worst of all... humbled her.

Despite all of her talk about hubris, she had let her own arrogance be her downfall.

"I look forward to seeing you bear the Thebesian banner come the day of the tournament, Athena."

She ignores him in her fury, preoccupied with removing her armor. Her anger is cold and precise, her movements in removing the armor exact and efficient. She wants to get out of her as quickly as possible. She's already wasted enough time and dignity succumbing to her childishness. If it wasn't for her penchant for obsessive detail, she would've thrown the armor to the ground and stomped off.

Ares tilts his head as he watches her. He had not lied when he said he had been impressed. While Athena has gotten under his skin, he had to admit that she was a commendable warrior.

She fights the way she talks: shrewdly and passionately. She pushes his buttons, drives him to madness, and it takes all that he has to bring her down. He hasn't had a sparring partner that excited him as much as she did in what seem like eons. Had her opponent been anyone else, he would have no doubt that she would have had them at her mercy.

As he continues to observe the feisty blonde goddess, he is struck by the precision and care she puts in removing her armor and cleaning her weapon. Her movements and gestures are that of a practiced warrior.

As he watches her, he finds himself drawn to her other admirable features. Such as her legs which are slender, but firm and sturdy. He can imagine them knocking a man off his feet. Or perhaps wrapped around his waist… The sweat from their fight makes her dress cling to her, showing off her curves.

He's rather enjoying the view when she turns at just the right angle for the sunlight to illuminate her backside. And that's when he sees it, the tattoo of an owl peeking out from underneath her tunic.

His eyes widen at the sight, and suddenly memories of ivory and bronze masks and lingering touches invade his mind.

He crosses the courtyard swiftly. He spins her about and reaches to touch the inked owl.

"Remove your hands from my person," She protests, tearing away from his grasp.

"That tattoo of the owl, the one on your back. Did you always have it?"

"That's none of your business."

She turns to leave once again, but he's not letting her off that easily. His hand darts out and grabs hers.

"Hey! I said hands off. I won't tell you a third time," She says, pushing his arms away. But his hold is firm.

"Does Aphrodite have the same tattoo?"

"Shouldn't you know that better than I?"

He's silent for a moment, his hand still clutching hers.

"She doesn't," he whispers.

And he recalls his time together with the Goddess of Love. He had always just thought that the tattoo was a peculiar detail in the spell that Aphrodite had used to change her appearance, similar to the change in her hair color from dark umber to flaxen gold. Like Athena's, he realizes.

"Where were you twenty-seven moons ago?"

Athena furrows her brows at him. "How am I supposed to recall something so long ago? And even if I did-"

"You'd remember because you would've been at the Dionysia celebrations in Athens."

His interruption seems to have rendered her mute so he continues. The puzzle pieces were slowly clicking together in his head.

"Were you there?" his voice is low.

"Athens is my patron city. I come and go whenever I please. So yes, perhaps I was there momentarily."

"But at Zeus's dinner party, you said you didn't attend."

She blushes, her body betraying her lies. His recollection had surprised her. She had not thought he would have a mind for the details.

"Like I said, I don't remember."

"The Goddess of Wisdom and Intellect having difficulty with memory? I think not. What I thinkis that you're tripping over your lies, little goddess. First rule of deceit is to stick to one story."

"Now why would I have a reason to lie about the Dionysia?"

"Because you did come that night and for some reason you don't want others to know. This would mean that you had attended the celebration in secrecy. One might even venture a guess that you came in disguise. Perhaps, in a mask."

Her eyes widen and it's enough to confirm his suspicions.

"It seems that I have deduced correctly."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she says at last. She's already been humiliated by him once today, she doesn't want to add that night to his tally. "Whoever you think I am, you're wrong. Now please release me. I must take my leave."

She can deny it all she wants, but her eyes say it all.

"Not until I get to the bottom of this. I know you're lying. I recognize that owl tattoo."

"It's just a tattoo. There are probably dozens of girls with-"

"Not like this one." His voice is glacial, his grip tightening ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, but to convey his seriousness.

She swallows nervously, her body betraying her deception. He could see the lie unraveling itself in the way her shoulders stiffen, her jaw clench, and her eyes dilate under his scrutiny.

Zeus, almighty. How could he have not guessed it sooner? Athena. It had been Athena all along. What other female creature could have blathered on about the Phalanx formation, for goodness sake? She had been the one at the arena, criticizing him. That would be so like her. But what had happened when he had chased after her? That part remains muddled in his brain.

And then it clicks. The spell.

The answer is simple. The two of them had switched places. That had been the purpose of the disguise in the first place after all. Transformation of one's appearance has always been Aphrodite's forte and so she must have convinced Athena to let her borrow her form, as Athena did not have the power to mimic another's likeliness. His heart pounded with the epiphany.

"Your ruse had worked. I had thought you were Aphrodite…"

A pained expression crosses Athena's face, as if the mere mention of Aphrodite on his tongue stung her, and she wrenches her hand out of his grasp.

"Then you should keep on believing that. Because whoever you think I am, I'm not her."

"You continue to lie to me."

His eyes are boring into hers, and try as she might to avoid their gaze, she knows it's futile. He's seeing right through her.

She can feel her face burning up with mortification. Her eyes well up with tears out of their own volition, despite all of her mental protests. How dare he? How dare he realize now.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he breathes. "It was youall along."

He needs to hear her say it. He's been duped for so long.

"Yes, so maybe it was. But it doesn't change anything. Because I hate you."

She shoves him away, using his momentary state of astonishment to make her escape. And just like that, she slips away from him. Like water spilling from open palms.

It is not the first, and it won't be the last, time he watches her retreating back.

xxx

Every so often, Diomedes would remove his royal revelry and don simple laymen's clothes to visit the marketplace, if only to escape the stifling air of the palace. He enjoys the bustle of the market and the ability to blend into the crowd. He reckons it is also the best method of surveying the daily lives and overall contentment of his subjects.

He is in the middle of inspecting some wares from a pottery craftsman when he hears the scream. He turns his head to see a girl get shoved to the ground while a man takes off with her belongings.

Thinking quickly on his feet, he grabs one of the large urns from the merchant's table and hurdles it towards the thief. It hits the man in the head and knocks him to the ground, allowing several nearby patrollers to restrain him.

Confident that the thief will be properly handled, he drops a handful of gold coins on the pottery merchant's table for the urn he had destroyed. The man showers him with praises and attempts to flatter him into taking several more wares since he had vastly overpaid, but Diomedes merely shakes his head in response. Bidding a quick goodbye, he makes his way past a crowd that has gathered around the thief and the female victim. The bystanders easily part for him to pass and he is soon by the girl's side.

"Are you alright?"

Her face had been concealed in shadow, her head covered by a large scarf. But when she raises her head to look at him, the scarf falls away and he's struck by perhaps one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen.

Glossy straight brown hair that looks soft to touch, sun-kissed skin, and a mouth that looks sweet to kiss. With a beauty that rivals the gods, she was the mirror image of the statue of Aphrodite that resides in the eastern temple.

"Thank you. For saving me," she whispers.

He helps her to her feet, and he couldn't help but feel drawn by her deep brown eyes.

"Who are you?" he breathes.

She tilts her head to the side a little and gives him a dazzling smile.

"My name is Helen [v]."

He doesn't realize then that another domino had fallen. That the utterance of a mere name would soon bear so much meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i A variation on the quote, "All men's souls are immortal, but the souls of the righteous are immortal and divine," by Socrates.
> 
> ii Charaxos is a wealthy Greek merchant from the Egyptian version of the Cinderella tale. There's not too much information on him and since the story takes place in the "last days of Ancient Egypt" which is around 672 – 332 BC and the Trojan War supposedly took place around 1100 BC, I took some liberties with historical accuracy. If interested you can find the Egyptian Cinderella story here: .
> 
> iii Chiton is a type of clothing that ancient Greeks wore. More info here: wiki/Chiton_(costume)
> 
> iv Cadmus is the founder of Thebes. More on his story can be found here: wiki/Cadmus
> 
> v And so Helen has appeared! Elena is her TVD counterpart (hence the reference to Aphrodite). And as you all know ALL'S FAIR is the prequel to IN LOVE AND WAR (which takes place during the Trojan War), so her appearance will bring many storms. Also shout out to that one tumblr follower that suggested Elena be Helen (you know who you are!)


	6. Part VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I recently discovered that the noun for a person from Argos is Argive not Argonian, so I have gone back and edited past chapters to take that into account. I've also found other little historical inaccuracies such as my use of the term "coliseum" which is an invention of the Romans, not the Greeks, and have made similar edits to be more accurate. As always, thank you Paige for helping with the edits. And now... Onto the fun stuff, the chapter itself. =) Enjoy!

His muscles ache and sweat beads trickle down from his forehead to his chin. He ignores the need to wipe it away with the back of his hand in order to block yet another savage blow from his opponent. The slash is aimed towards his left-hand side, where he is less dominant. He parries it, but not without feeling the repercussions of the blow, the weight of it on his shoulders. His muscles and bones ache with physical exertion, a sort of slow burn that he relishes.

He doesn't know how long he has been at it, but his opponent is relentless. Each jab, slice, and swing of his sword push Ares to the defensive. The blows are not heavy, but they are quick and many and they always seem to find the kinks in his armor.

He falters, just for a moment, and his feet are kicked out from under him. Dust rises from where he falls, momentarily veiling his opponent. He doesn't get a chance to grip his sword when it is kicked away from him. He watches it sail away and turns back to meet the point of his opponent's sword. The figure that hovers above him is helmeted, but he can make out clear blue eyes behind the metal plates.

His lungs constrict in his chest; his heart pounds beneath his ribs. He blinks once, and suddenly the hard dusty ground is replaced with soft cushions and silk sheets. He looks up and sees the same blue eyes that had peeked out of a bronze helmet now staring at him through an ivory mask.

They seem to glint at him most conspiratorially, though he has not one wit as to what the mind behind those eyes is thinking.

A hand runs down his bare chest, tauntingly slow as it ventures south. His breathing becomes labored, motivated by an entirely different reason than earlier. The other hand of his masked companion presses both of his above his head. When he makes a move to release them, the grip tightens.

Despite the unyielding hold, the hands on him are small and soft compared to his. He would easily be able to forcefully remove their hold should he wish to exert himself. But before he could overpower his captor, she - for he is quite certain now, from his eyeful of generous curves and soft, round breasts, that his companion is female - has him distracted. For those small hands that held his captive had danced lazily down his bare skin and have now found his most sensitive nether regions.

Her fingers idly trace invisible patterns into the insides of his thighs, delectable circles and swirls towards the apex where his legs meet. She playfully fondles him, her hands cupping him and massaging softly before wrapping her fingers around his length firmly.

He looks into her eyes again and they seem to look down at him with mischievous intent. He doesn't have time to ponder her intentions when she begins to move her hands up and down him with firm and rhythmic pressure, each hand twisting in an opposite direction. He feels his muscles twitch as his nerves catch fire. She strokes him along the base of his tip, earning a groan from his lips. He doesn't even notice that his hands are free, now that hers are so preoccupied with devilish purpose.

Her rhythm is languid and teasing, using her open palms to knead the sensitive underside of his hardened member. She runs her thumb across his tip, inciting a hiss of pleasure from him, before her hand slides down his member once more. She squeezes with one hand and slides it upwards. When that hand reaches the end of his length, she begins at the base with her other hand. And so it goes, again and again and again, endless waves of pleasure.

He feels his hips buck when she increases the speed, twisting her hands in a way that makes every strand of his hair stand up, his skin feeling electric. Her movements are so artfully skillful that he has to fight against the urge to let his eyes roll to the back of his head in pure ecstasy. His muscles clench and he's harder than he's ever been before. Her fingers rake across his chest, pain mingling with pleasure and his back arches. He's teetering, but he refuses to spill his seed from just the touch of her hands alone.

He tries to sit up, but she roughly shoves him back down. Through the mist clouding in his head, he realizes then that his hands are free and he makes a move to flip her over, not content with being merely submissive to her actions. As enjoyable as it may be, his own hands longed to run down the stretch of her torso, ached to press his lips against the hollow of her collarbone and run his tongue over those pert nipples. He wants to fill her from behind, grind his body against hers, and feel her walls squeezing around him, all hot, wet and tight. He wants to make her scream his name into the heavens and to silence those screams with his lips. Her lips. Oh, how he yearned most to kiss those lips.

He manages to reverse their position, only to have her roll with his tackle. He's startled by her retaliation and she quickly has him on his back again. Her legs wrap tightly around his hips, grinding against him so agonizingly sweet. He tries once more and they tumble together, wrestling for dominance.

In the struggle, he manages to knock her mask askew and blonde hair comes tumbling forth, shielding those lovely blue eyes that he's become so fond of. For that singular moment, they both freeze, both breathing heavily from the exertion. And then, as he held his breath, she raises a hand and brushes back the golden curls from her face. Her bare face.

A wave of déjà vu paralyzes him. He stares up at her, not even caring that he is once more on his back, at her mercy. He is too much in awe to bring himself to fight.

Her cheeks are rosy from their prior struggle, her skin dewy and porcelain. When a pink tongue darts out to wet her lips, he feels a tremor run through him, like a harp string being plucked.

Her face is oh, so familiar. He can feel her name at the tip of his tongue. But somehow, the knowledge flits from his muddled mind, out of his reach.

"Who are you?" He says breathlessly.

She leans forward, her hair falling over her shoulder and onto his chest. Her eyes have darkened; her previously glacial gaze has melted into the color of storms.

Her face inches closer, lips a hair breadth's away. He thinks she is going to kiss him, but she tilts her face away from his lips at the last moment. He inhales the dizzying scent of her as her cheek brushes against his. Instead of the metal point of a sword, a soft pair of lips presses against his neck. She kisses him there, open-mouthed and wet. Her teeth graze his skin, tongue teasing his flesh. She makes a hot, wet trail all along his jaw. Her lips continue, moving upwards until they press against his ear.

"You know who I am," she whispers, her breath is scorching.

When she lifts her head, he reaches to touch her face. But the moment his fingers touch her flesh, she turns into an owl and flies away.

He wakes with a start, his arms and legs tangled in sheets that are damp from his perspiration. As he struggles to regain control of his thumping heart and heaving chest, the name that had eluded him in the dream rises to the surface of his foggy mind.

Athena.

Xxx

Apollo and Artemis chase one another across the sky, and soon the date of the Argive tournament advances. Ares has seen neither Aphrodite nor Athena for several moons, and he's left to his own solitude to ponder their deception. He's resolute in piecing together the clues and finding his way out of the labyrinth of lies the daughters of Zeus have constructed.

He must have replayed his sparring match with Athena a million times inside his head. And every time, his pulse still thrums with adrenaline from the recollection. The memory overlaps with that of the girl in the ivory mask spinning in the foray of undulating bodies to the rhythm of music. She is a blur of flashing gold hair, porcelain skin, and lethal dexterity in his mind's eye. The two are one, and he's still berating himself for not noticing it sooner.

And then there was the final piece, the metaphorical nail in the coffin. The owl tattoo.

Each god had a mark upon their body that signified their godliness. His is a boar on his upper right bicep. It is his symbol of power and he wears it openly with pride, displaying it through sleeveless robes. The mark is distinctive and no spell or illusion can mimic it. Not even one as powerful or as exact in detail as Aphrodite's. Talented as she may be with illusions that can fool even her fellow immortals, Ares was sure that no one can counterfeit another god's marker. No doubt clouded his mind any longer. The owl had been Athena's.

Athena, he thinks. It had been Athena all along.

How could he have been so blind? The look in Athena's eyes when he questioned her should have been confirmation enough. The burn of those piercing blue eyes still stung his retinas. If he was being honest, which he wasn't, he would have to admit that it was that utterly devastated expression upon her face that prevented him from seeking her out. How was it that she was able to make him feel like the guilty party with just one look? As if he was the one that duped her instead of the other way around.

He shakes his head, as if that could clear his conscience. Still, the hurt that tainted her watery gaze clung to him. He curses himself again. Why should he feel remorse when he was the one wronged? The guilt quickly morphs into anger, an emotion he's much more accustomed to.

He has been avidly trying to forget his dreams of Athena, focusing instead on the cold hard facts that lay before him. Acting in such a way is unfamiliar to him; he's more used to kicking down the doors and demanding answers, given his more impulsive nature. But he cannot find Aphrodite to confront her and he can't seem to bring himself to go see her blonde sister quite yet.

He had allowed himself to be fooled by the sisters' duplicity. He knows not yet what they meant to achieve through their deception, but he swore that he would get to the bottom of their con. And when he does, they would feel his wrath. He was the God of War and he did not waste time with soft-heartedness. So, he waits and plots. Come the day of the Argive tournament, all would be illuminated.

Xxx

The sun blazes on the eve of the Argive tournament, Apollo clearly slacking from his duties to watch the games of the mortals. Crowds have gathered around the procession of royal families in attendance to pay their respects to the late King Theseus and to confirm their allegiance to the new Argive king. Banners of various colors filled the streets. The markets are vivid with cloth and wares and merchants' clamors. Music and chatter fills the air as everyone made their preparations for the tournament.

Helen watches all this through the open air veranda in the Argive palace.

"Are your accommodations comfortable, my lady?"

Helen breaks her gaze from the street farers below and looks up at Diomedes. A pair of royal advisors stands behind him in attendance. One is tall and slim, his angular face lending to a rather intimidating look. The other is short and old with wrinkles like spider webs etching his face, his back is hunched and his eyebrows and beard are long and white.

"Yes, you have been most generous, your highness."

"Please, there is no need for formalities here. Call me Diomedes."

"Only if you call me Helen instead of 'my lady'," the girl counters with a smile.

He blushes in spite of himself. He still cannot quite shake off the effects of her unnatural beauty. There was something quite… bewitching about it. He had not been surprised when he discovered her to be the daughter of Tyndareus, Helen of Sparta. She earns her title of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world.

"Are you enjoying all of the festivities?"

Helen turns back to the view below and nods her head with barely contained excitement.

"I've never seen anything quite like it," she breathes.

"Is that why you decided to venture out into the markets on your own without your guards?"

She blushes at that. "I must admit I was too bold... I was very lucky you were there to save me."

As Helen admires the crowded streets, Diomedes admires her. She is stunning in her dress of silk. Her long, dark russet hair is loose and swaying in the wind. She's drawn her knees to her chin, looking all the more innocent in the pose.

"Surely Sparta would have similar sporting events? I would think even more."

She seems to flinch at the mention of her home.

"Yes, but Spartan festivities are not nearly so... pleasant," she says carefully, giving him a gentle smile.

It awes him how such a delicate creature like herself could be the spawn of the mammoth Spartan king Tyndareus.

"I'd be pleased if you joined me tonight in my balcony at the opening ceremonies of the tournament."

"Oh, I simply cannot intrude. You've already been so kind-"

"Nonsense, you are our king's guest. You must accompany him at the tournament," the taller counselor says sternly. His tone of voice leaves no room for argument. The other counselor merely nods in concurrence. "Our tournament will put even the Panathenaic Games to shame," the taller counselor boasts.

Diomedes gives her a small, sheepish smile. He looks slightly embarrassed by his counselor's overzealous proclamations.

"I would be honored if you were to join me," he says.

She smiles that devastating smile of hers again, making his heart pound erratically, and nods in agreement.

The tall counselor snaps his fingers the moment she accepts the invitation and soon, a legion of female servants are parading into her chambers.

"These ladies are for your convenience, my lady," the tall one says. "If you need anything at all, they will be at your disposal."

The two counselors make their excuses and bow out of the room. Diomedes is left standing in the middle of a large circle of females, looking very much out of place.

"These girls should be able to provide you with whatever you need," he tells her, parroting what his counselors had already said. He couldn't seem to act like himself in front of her, his confidence cowering in the presence of her beauty. He felt like a foolish schoolboy again. "I will look forward to seeing you later this evening."

She smiles at him kindly, and he nods curtly once at her before striding out.

Xxx

Dusk gives way to evening. Artemis shoves out her brother and claims the best seat in the house, shining bright moonbeams to light the paths to the arena. The full moon casts a silvery glow on every surface.

The entire city packs itself into the amphitheatre stands, awaiting their king to make the opening speech. There is an electric hum in the air, the like of a horde of buzzing bees. The excitement is palpable. Something special was in the air. When guards begin lighting the torches of the arena, the crowd roars with renewed fervor.

Ares ignores all this. All day, he had been preoccupied with preparing Cadmus for the tournament. The King of Thebes is not without his impressive entourage, but to have the God of War as his supporter makes him a popular contestant in the tournament. Few other warrior kings boast such an endorsement by the gods.

"You are taking unprecedented interest in this tournament," Cadmus points out to him as Ares spreads out a map of the arena across the table.

Around them, soldiers and athletes in various states of undress clamored as they argued weaponry, armor, and fighting techniques. They all ignored the god within their midst, Ares having cast a spell to disguise himself as a plain old man. Only Cadmus and fellow immortals would be able to see his true form. The spell is not as eloquent as Aphrodite's - she has a specific skill in appearance after all. But it suits his needs.

"Are you complaining, Cadmus?" Ares lifts an eyebrow in his protégé's direction.

"No, no," Cadmus replies, raising his hands up with palms outward. "I'm just… curious as to why you'd bother wasting time with such a trivial mortal affair."

"I need to keep my mind off of something," the God replies gruffly.

He hasn't been able to sleep well, his dreams filled with disturbing images of wispy blonde hair and the peculiar lingering scent of olives and lilies that is distinct to only Athena. Try as he might, they are hard to ignore and he always wakes up to damp, twisted sheets and a tantalizing ache in his loins. He has a mind to criticize Morpheus for his handiwork, but refuses to admit to being so provoked by mere dreams.

While he has seen several other gods in the midst of all the festivities, each in his or her own disguise, he has not laid eyes on either Athena or her sister. Despite her absence, Ares knew Athena would show. They had a bet after all, and she was not one to forfeit a wager.

He would glance around occasionally, secretly hoping that he'd catch sight of her amongst the revelers, flinching every time he spotted the sight of long blonde locks at the corner of his eyes.

"You're behaving strangely…" Cadmus observes.

"Never mind me. You're not paying attention at all to the details of the tournament program."

Cadmus sighs but returns his attention back to the scrolls spread out before him. The two of them are buried in deep conversation when suddenly a hush falls over the room. The common sound of men's chatter and the clanking of metal against metal have ceased. Even the previously rowdy audiences outside in the stands have gone mute. The silence is near deafening.

Ares and Cadmus look up, pausing in conversation, to see a crowd gathering at the balcony. Drawn by curiosity, Ares makes his way there. The men in his way part for him as if on instinct despite his mild outward appearance. When he reaches the terrace, he looks down, and that's when he realizes why silence had fallen over all the warriors.

Athena wrapped in nothing but a scarlet Thebesian banner has entered the arena.

Xxx

Despite her state of undress, Athena holds her head high. She walks with light feet, somehow making the thick and coarse Thebesian flag look elegant upon her person. Once, twice, thrice, she circles it a fourth time before making her way towards the center.

Her presence is like a vacuum in the arena; all eyes are drawn to her. As if she were the sun and everyone else were orbiting stars.

She is radiant and terrifying at the same time, burning with such intensity that clearly marks her as one of the gods, too ethereal to be anything mortal. And though the audience did not know it quite yet, they felt a buzzing in their veins, the sense of something magic about to happen.

"Good evening, citizens of Argos and honored guests."

She doesn't raise her voice, but the sound seems to boom through the auditorium, ringing through the air with crystalline force.

"My name is Athena, Goddess of Wisdom."

A collective gasp vibrates the air and murmurs of prayer float through the crowd. Many fling themselves onto the floor in reverence to the goddess's presence.

She raises her hands, palms upwards, into the air and silence once again falls.

"Fear not, good men and women of Greece. I appear to you tonight to pay my respects to King Theseus, who has demonstrated great heroism and sacrifice in my honor throughout life."

She looks up towards the center balcony where Diomedes stood, golden ivy crown upon his head. He didn't wear the usual robes of a king, but instead the dark black armor of a warrior in mourning. He must be shocked to see her there, but his expression doesn't show it.

"He shall be remembered, but Argos shall flourish under the reign of its new king. For, even as we mourn Theseus's death, we must praise him for his choice of a competent heir."

She gives him a small reassuring smile, and he inclines his head in acceptance of her praise. The weight of which does not escape him.

Athena turns back to her audience and graces them with the same smile. Only this time, her eyes are harder, brighter.

"Tonight marks the eve of King Diomedes's tournament. A most fitting event to mark the beginning of a prosperous reign."

She turns slightly to address the hall of warriors. She paces the length of the arena, making eye contact with the men so that they each felt like she was speaking to them personally.

"Men, you have been given a rare opportunity to demonstrate your strength and cunning, but most importantly, your courage. For courage is mankind's finest possession, the noblest prize that a man can endeavor to win.[i]"

As if by magic, attendants appeared carrying the flags of all the visiting cities. Athena gestures them forward and her attendants begin raising them upon the poles scattered about the circular edge of the stadium.

"It matters not if you are Argive or Corinthian, Athenian or Spartan, we are Greeks! And tonight we hold hands and celebrate with our brothers and sisters and friends from Thebes, Persia, and Troy."

While everyone else watched the flags get hoisted into the air, Ares had only eyes for the goddess in the arena. She seems to be aware of his attention and as if they were drawn magnetically, they find each other across the distance and ocean of people between them, eyes locking.

She keeps his gaze with carefully veiled ferocity as she begins to undo the knots that kept the Thebesian flag tied around her body.

Slowly, the cloth unfurls, revealing marble skin. A pale shoulder, a perfect breast, shapely legs that follow. Finally, she steps out of the folds of the banner, clothed in nothing but moonlight and fire glow.

She is perfection made of contrasting shadows and light and he can't look away. She is the flame and he is the moth, and with the gravity of her gaze, he is quite sure that she will burn him.

She hands the Thebesian flag to a waiting attendant and it too soon joins the others in the sky.

"I, Pallas Athena, bless all who enter this arena."

Tension fills the air. The torches that ran along the sides of the theatre burns higher as the wind picks up, unfurling the various city-state banners that hung overhead.

"Rise up, my champions, and show thy bravery! Maidens shall sing you praises with their songs for years to come. For he who sheds his blood on this ground shall live forever!"

She has the crowd by their jugular; they eat up her every word. The attendant returns and hands her a spear, gilded with gold leaf etchings along the base though the point itself gleamed with the shine of steel.

With her hair whipping about her face in a frenzied manner, her eyes blazing with intensity, Athena thrusts her spear into the air.

"For Honor and Victory!"

Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. The fire pit set in the middle of the stadium bursts into flames, and as if a dam had been broken, the thrumming silence crumbles and the crowd roars into cheers, "For Honor and Victory! And for the Goddess Athena!"

They draw out her name until the roaring turns into cheers. Men and women alike hooted, jumped up and down, stomped their feet, clapped their hands, and screamed into the heavens. The stone foundations of the amphitheatre shake with their fervor, their passionate zeal highly contagious. It spreads like wild fire and Ares catches it, feeling adrenaline rushing through his veins. His head grows dizzy with the thunderous roar.

He had meant to humiliate her, to knock her off her pedestal. But his attempts are for nothing. She stands tall, fierce, as unmoved as a mountain by a sea breeze.

Her voice commands the legions of men, warriors, and they hail her as their queen. They will worship her, kill for her, and die for her, should she ever demand it. And probably even when she doesn't.

He realizes then that if there could ever be a goddess to contest his position as the embodiment of war, it can only be Athena.

Xxx

The crowd quickly succumbs to drunken revelry after. They drink and dance and sing songs about Theseus, about Argos, and most often of all, about Athena. Ares wonders how jealous his mother will be that her patron city has decided to revere another goddess so fiercely this night.[ii]

Everywhere he goes, he is constantly reminded of the Goddess of Wisdom. Not that it was possible to erase the image of her glorious naked form from his mind anyway. Pale skin spun gold in the firelight, hair lit like stars, the curves of her body the envy of sculptors. His hair stood up from the mere memory. Her words, which rang like thunder, still echo in his head. He had never seen another maiden as furiously beautiful, and he doubts he would see another compare in the same manner. Athena was distinctly unique in that regard.

"Drink, Ares!" Cadmus caws, pushing a goblet into his hand and breaking through the cloud of his thoughts. "Make merry! For tonight the gods walk amongst men! And I am blessed most of all to have you for my company!"

The young Thebesian king's face was already red. Whether it is from the evening's heat or the drink in his hand, Ares is unsure.

"Your tongue becomes gilded when you drink, Cadmus," he chides with good humor.

The Thebesian king waves his hand abstractly in the air.

"The goddess Athena wore my banner tonight; out of all the others she chose mine, nothing you can say can sour my mood. Now stop with your strange behavior and drink!"

He allows the mortal to usher him forth, leading them both towards the bonfire that has been lit in the middle of the town square, where the densest of the crowds have gathered. Upon their journey, they pass the Heraion of Argos[iii], and that's when Ares catches the sound of a faint cry in the wind.

The sound is quickly smothered by the competing noise of the partiers, and no one else seems to have caught it. Cadmus continues walking a good distance before noticing that his immortal companion has stopped.

Ares strains his ears to hear it again, but the music and the laughter is too thunderous to make out anything else. He could have easily ignored it, contribute it to a phantom sound, but he doesn't. Finding himself temporarily infected with Pandora's ailment, he felt compelled to find the source.

Cadmus issues a groan when he turns to mount the steps of the temple.

"Where are you going?" Cadmus cries after him.

He ignores his mortal companion and continues on, not bothering to look to see if Cadmus and his retinue follow.

He can make out the sound better now that he was inside the temple. The stone walls act as a buffer against the raucous of chatter and song outside. The cry is half whimper and scream, desperate and terrified. Female, he realizes.

Finally rounding the corner of the long hallway, with Cadmus and his men trailing behind him, Ares comes upon the source of the sound.

It came from a girl, dressed in the robes of a young priestess. Her face is bloody and beaten. He's sure she will be sporting bruises come sunrise. And towering over her is a young man; no more than three handfuls of years to him would be Ares's guess, pinning her down and forcing kisses upon her breasts. He recognizes the young man as an Athenian from the colors of his clothes.

Usually he did not intervene in such mortal affairs; he has seen worse cruelty in times of war. But this was not war. There was honor in war, as paradoxical as that sounds, and there were certain principles that Ares lived by. As morally gray as they were, they were principles all the same. And in this moment, on a night so sacrosanct, in a temple of a goddess, and with a priestess, the man in question dares to desecrate holy ground with virginal blood. The young man could not have committed a worse offense by choosing a temple of Hera as his place of defilement.

His hands form into fists and he moves forward, grabbing a handful of the youth's hair and jerking it back hard. The youth yelps and tears his face away from the girl's. His face is ruddy and his breath stank of wine.

Upon closer inspection, Ares recognizes the young man. It was the same green buck he had encountered at the Dionysia that fateful night he and Athena crossed paths. Apparently, one lesson had not been enough for the boy.

"Unhand the girl."

"Shove off, old man," the Athenian slurs, his cheeks bright red from drink.

While the man was distracted with Ares, the girl takes the opportunity to squirm out of his grasp. Her dress is ripped and dirty, tears streaking the length of it where the Athenian's discourteous hands touched.

In her haste to escape, she nearly trips, but Cadmus is there is catch her. Ares spares a quick glance to see the Thebesian king console the maiden before turning his attentions back to the drunkard at his feet.

"Now look what you've done!" The Athenian cries, training his drunken glare at Ares. "You let her get away."

The young man struggles to get on his feet, his legs as wobbly on the ground as if it were a raft on sea.

"You are drunk," Ares states indifferently. "Do you even know where you are? Or who that girl is?"

The young man scoffs. "What does it matter? They're all whores anyways."

"She is a priestess and you are in the temple of the mother goddess," Ares bites out.

The man replies by spitting onto the ground. Ares feels the ice in his blood melt and turn molten. The drunken mortal attempts to shove past Ares, another slight that brings his blood to full boil.

"You have no respect for the gods. How dare you pollute a goddess's temple with your filth?"

"I'd be more respectful of the goddess should she spread her thighs to me," the Athenian grins.

If Ares had felt even a little bit merciful before, the sentiment has been swiped clean with that singular affront.

"Arm yourself!" Ares roars. "I will not let you leave unpunished for your slander."

He did not intervene in hopes to make sport out of a man so clearly inferior and intoxicated. But the mortal's words offend the queen of the gods, and he will not stand idly by when his mother's honor is insulted.

The Athenian laughs and unsheathes the sword that hung at his waist.

"It would be my pleasure to gut you," the Athenian boasts.

Ares does not waste his breath with a reply. He merely pulls his sword from its sheath and begins sizing up his opponent. It doesn't take him long considering his opponent's lack of clout.

The Athenian strikes first, but his blow is easily parried by the God of War. Ares allows a few more jabs and swings before going on the offensive. His punishment will swift, and it will be cruel.

The flat side of his blade strikes the man on his upper right side and is met with the sickening sound of cracking bones and a loud, ear-splitting howl. With a swift kick, Ares sends his opponent sailing across the room. There on the floor, the Athenian heaves painfully, holding his hand to his bruised and broken ribs. The pain of the shattered bones piecing his insides hurt more than any cut or puncture wound would. As always, Ares's attacks are smooth, efficient, and most of all brutal.

Ares advances and the youth raises his hands, palms open upwards as he cowers on the floor. He's moments from plunging his sword through the man's esophagus, but after seeing the gesture of surrender, he pauses. He did not need to finish with a kill. The man's surrender would serve as a greater shame than death. He was clearly no match for the God of War, and Ares took no pleasure in beating the same man twice.

Just as he relaxes the point of his sword, the youth grabs a handful of ash from the fire pit in front of the goddess's altar and flings it in his face, making a play to plunge his sword into Ares's stomach. The God of War is quick enough to maneuver so the sword only nicks his side armor. And with crushing force, Ares breaks the Athenian's wrist. The Athenian screams and drops his sword.

Ares hauls him up by the shirt, lifting him off his feet. Perspiration runs down the youth's forehead, mingling with his blood, snot, and tears.

"I have a mind to slit your throat, boy," Ares snarls.

The youth looks rightfully fearful.

"But it would be a dishonor to spill blood outside of the arena during the tournament, and I have no wish to dirty Hera's temple with your swine blood."

Ares releases his shirt front and the Athenian falls backwards onto the floor. He begins scrambling towards the other end of the room where a pair of guards stood blocking his path to the exit.

"Cadmus," Ares commands.

The King of Thebes approaches the God of War and bows, his expression solemn and serious.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have this boy stripped of his armor and thrown out. He should be disqualified from the games."

Cadmus nods to the two guards and they hoist the youth up by the arms.

"I shall bring him to Diomedes. It is his tournament, and I would be a rude guest to exercise my authority in his domain."

"I doubt the young Argive king will allow a cripple to compete, but very well. See to it then," Ares says with a curt nod of dismissal.

Cadmus bows once before turning on his heels to obey his master's wishes. Just as he is leading his men out the door, he is shocked by the sight of Athena leaning against the doorway.

Cadmus makes a move to bow to the goddess, but she raises her hand up to stop him.

"Go on, King Cadmus. You have affairs to attend to."

With a silent nod, he moves on with his entourage trailing behind him, leaving the God of War and Goddess of Wisdom with only each other's company.

Xxx

They stand in silence for a long while before either addresses one another. Tension always seems to hang between them, like a spiraling black hole that disables either from approaching lest they fall into the abyss.

Ares, the more impatient one, is finally unable to take the loaded hush and speaks.

"How long have you been standing there?" He asks.

She had been on her way to apologize to Diomedes for hijacking his opening speech when she heard the priestess's mental pleas reverberating through her head. Her prayers had originally been for Hera, but when the mother goddess did not answer, in her desperation the girl turned to Athena.

The girl's sickened disgust, terror, and fear thus manifested as a throb in Athena's head, an ache that would not quell until the pleas were answered. And so, Athena had gone to her. The last thing she had expected was to find Ares there, acting so very much out of character.

"Long enough to see you lame the Athenian boy from ever holding a sword again," she tells him.

"A sword maybe, but he'd still be able to hold a plow. He's lucky I felt that merciful." Ares shakes his head and snorts. "I suppose you're here to criticize me then?"

"Yes," Athena replies. After a moment's pause, she adds, "If it were me I wouldn't have allowed him to leave with his legs intact."

Ares looks at her, carefully this time, and he can see the blazing white fury in her eyes. This was not the kind, wise, and merciful goddess Athena. This was the warrior Athena. And bloodlust and ferocity radiate from her, so palpable he could feel the temperature in the room rise.

He notices that she is clothed now, wrapped in a diaphanous blue dress, her hair still loose and wild. He notices that her cheeks are a lovely rosy tint from the heat of the warm evening and her lips, when parted, look most delectably soft. Her dress dips low, revealing the smooth upper curves of firm pale breasts, and the material clings to her, showing off her league long legs. He finds that her appearance is much too similar to her dream counterpart for his liking and, despite his internal protestation, he feels an unbidden surge of longing to touch her.

Mentally shaking away the urge, he instead focuses his attention on a more innocent target. Noticing her empty hands, he says, "No drink for this evening?"

"I do not trust what Dionysus puts in the wine," she answers with a tinge of humor in her voice.

Indeed, Ares had spotted his friend amongst the frenzied celebrators.

She walks across the span of the room and casually inspects the offerings at the altar besides a statue in Hera's likeliness. She doesn't look at him when she speaks.

"I assume my show was sufficient for the wager?" Her tone has no inflection.

His lips curl slightly and he nods in affirmation. "Yes, you may consider the wager paid."

"Then we no longer have any business with one another," she says with a sigh. Whether it is an exhale of relief or regret remains ambiguous.

She moves to leave, but he blocks the path to the exit.

"Not yet," he tilts his head as he regards her. "There is still the matter of your deceit."

She visibly stiffens in response.

"I don't know what ploy you and Aphrodite planned, but I assure you that I will not be a victim of whatever humiliation you plot."

She blinks at him for a moment before answering.

"There is no ploy."

"Then what did you two mean to achieve with your disguises?"

Athena frowns and averts her eyes from him. "I cannot tell you the reason for Aphrodite's charade, but I assure you that neither of us intended for you to be involved at all."

"If you cannot tell me Aphrodite's reason, then what is yours?"

Her lips press into a firm straight line.

"You owe me that at least for the merry chase you've led me on."

"I owe you nothing!" she cries indignantly. "And what chase?"

"I searched for you, didn't you know? When I woke to find you gone, the bed still warm with your heat, I went after you. I roamed up and down the corridors with little less than your scent to follow. Finding empty rooms and growing more ridiculous by the second, robed in nothing more than mere bed sheets. And then when I finally came across who I thought to be the maiden from my chamber, I found myself duped. My mind spins from all the trickery. Where the lies end and the truth begin, I am still uncertain. Now is that not a merry chase?"

She seems to blush at this, but quickly finds her tongue. "Well, I'm sure you find yourself satisfied with the development. You got the better sister in the end. Where is Aphrodite tonight? I was sure she would have not wanted to waste a chance to come on your arm."

He smiles, realizing that his words had thrown her off balance, judging from her agitated state.

"Do you know that you sound jealous?"

"I am not jealous," she snaps.

Taking a deep breath, she steels herself, her composure straightening. He could almost see the veil come over her face, like the visor of a helmet, shielding her thoughts. If their conversations were a game of strategy, then he has badly miscalculated his move. When she speaks again, her voice is devoid of any emotion. She is a tundra and he must now weather the storm.

"I was drunk," she says.

"What?"

"You asked me why Aphrodite and I lied to you about our identities. Well, the answer to your question is elementary. I was drunk."

She moves away from the altar so she can stand face to face with him.

"I partook in too much ambrosia and the dancing made me heady. In my inebriated state, I thought you handsome, so I succumbed to my baser desires. It was clearly not one of my wisest decisions," She drawls. "And upon waking, I regretted it and so I left. Running into Aphrodite while she was still in my form was pure chance. A simple case of mistaken identity, nothing more. There were no other ulterior motives other than to hide my embarrassment. So whatever plot you think the two of us have concocted against you, you are wrong."

"It's that simple?"

"Pheidōlίa, philargyrίa.[iv] The simplest answer is the correct answer."

Her words, cold and logical, sting more than he cares to admit. For a moment, she actually sees it register on his face, but she attributes it to his bruised ego.

"So there it is, Ares. Are you satisfied?"

No, no he is not. He doesn't know why, but he's disappointed that all that their relationship amounted to was a case of misunderstanding. He has already wasted too much time misunderstanding, assuming and underestimating her. Thinking she was but a gale when she was a tempest, the wildest of storms.

"Now that we have this all sorted, I guess there is nothing left between us," she muses flippantly, not looking at him. Her eyes are trained instead on tracing intricate patterns on her sleeves.

"No... I suppose not," he concurs, putting equal amounts of ice into his voice.

She glances up briefly at him, her expression indiscernible as she bobs once in a slight curtsy. "I hope you will enjoy the tournament. May the Fates ensure we will not cross paths unnecessarily again."

And just like that, her words, polite as they were, sharply sever any further conversation between them.

She quickly turns her back on him dismissively. Watching her walk away, he idly contemplates her silhouette. It would seem that he had somehow become quite familiar with the view of her backside. It would be a view he would not protest if only it were not diminishing in the distance.

Xxx

Diomedes finds himself distracted despite all of the merriment. He will never be privy to the inner workings of the minds of the immortals, but he always thought he knew Athena and her unannounced presence tonight had shaken him.

He is one of the blessed few who have had the rare opportunity to see her in her true guise while everyone else was only allowed the façade of whatever mortal mask she chooses to don. But tonight, that had changed. Athena had never before revealed herself in public in such a way. It was a change in character that unnerved him, especially when he thought he knew her best. Now realizing his arrogance in such an assumption he felt foolish.

"Did you hear me, Diomedes?"

He starts abruptly when he feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder, previously too absorbed in his thoughts that he had not heard the question aimed towards him. Helen looks at him with a quizzical expression.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," he replies, plastering on a smile for her benefit. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was just saying how auspicious the evening has turned out to be. The goddess Athena, herself, has blessed your tournament. She must look to you kindly."

He smiles modestly. "I believe it must be Thebes that she looks kinder to."

The memory of her wrapped in the Thebesian flag in the arena irritates him, though he knows it should not. After all, a mortal has no right in coveting the esteem of a god.

"I wouldn't say that. Did you not notice that glance she gave you?"

Diomedes's lips turn upwards in a smile. "A passing glance."

Helen shakes her head slightly. "You are much too modest."

"I will take that as a compliment. Arrogance would only lead to hubris after all," he replies.

She grins and raises her glass of wine to him. "Smartly spoken."

They clink their glasses together and each take a sip, enjoying one another's company. He can see his pair of advisors looking on approvingly in the corner of his eyes. They've been keen for him and the Spartan princess to become fond of one another. As a new king, his political alliances were still unstable and a marriage to Sparta would be most advantageous.

"She is beautiful, though, isn't she?" Helen says demurely. "I would think all of the city's men have fallen in love with her on sight tonight alone. Do you agree?"

There's something loaded in Helen's question, but before Diomedes can answer, there's a rumbling of noise and chatter in the hallway that distracts him. He overhears hushed whispers, and soon his two counselors have come rushing into the room.

"Apologies, my king. Cadmus, King of Thebes, would like to have an audience with you. I told him that you were otherwise engaged, but-"

"No, no. Let him in. He is a royal guest, after all."

Despite Diomedes's earlier jealousy over Athena's attire, he knew Thebes to be an ally to Argos and so sought to give its king his best humor.

Bobbing their heads in agreement, they gesture to the guards outside to let the Thebesian king in.

Cadmus alone enters the room and inclines his head to all the guests present, who in turn give him similar acknowledgement.

"Forgive me, Diomedes, for interrupting your evening, but there is something we must discuss."

"Cadmus, nonsense. I had thought you would be out drinking with the others. Come, join me."

Cadmus smiles sheepishly, "As would I, but alas there is an urgent matter that I must bring to your attention."

The Thebesian king throws a quick glance to Diomedes's companion, the lovely Helen. Understanding his silent message, Diomedes turns to Helen and asks her to go on to the festivities in the larger chamber without him. She obliges, nodding acknowledgement to Cadmus and his retinue before taking her leave, ushered by the stouter of Diomedes's counselors and an entourage of female attendants.

Once they were out of earshot, Diomedes turns back to his fellow king.

"What's the matter, Cadmus?"

Cadmus snaps a finger and two soldiers enter the room carrying a limp, whimpering male between them. The man bore bruises all along his torso and his face. Most of all his wrists were bent in a most unnatural way. Though there was little actual blood, Diomedes knew that the dark, swollen bruises meant internal bleeding. A more serious injury than if he had been stabbed. Noticing the man's garbs and the pin on his lapel, Diomedes recognizes the man as a contestant in the games. He looks to the Thebesian king with alarm.

"What's the meaning of this? You know that it is dishonorable to shed violence on the eve of the games, especially amongst the competitors."

Cadmus dips his head solemnly in agreement.

"I am aware."

"Then explain yourself," Diomedes hisses harshly, his voice taking on that authoritative kingly tone he only used for the most official or dire of events.

For Cadmus to be aware of the unspoken rules of the tournaments and yet violate them would be enough to sever an allegiance. Worse, it could be taken as a threat of war and Diomedes did not want to begin his reign with bloodshed.

"I found this man here," Cadmus gestures behind him, "in the temple of Hera, inebriated and rowdy."

"That is most undignified, yes, but does not seem enough to warrant such a brutal punishment."

"I would normally agree," Cadmus says in a soothing tone, "But... He was raping one of the priestesses."

Diomedes is silent for a moment, taking the information in.

"That is a serious accusation. To rape one of Hera's virgin priestesses in her own temple would be enough to bring upon the gods' wrath. Do you have proof?"

"Aside from what I saw with my own eyes, we have the maiden in question."

Cadmus turns to one of his men who drop the accused man to the floor, causing him to howl most pitifully. Diomedes ignores it and watches as the guard returns with an equally battered girl.

She enters the room warily, her face downcast so that he cannot make out her features. Diomedes gestures for the girl to approach him.

"Look at me, please," Diomedes asks in a soft tone, gently lifting her chin up with his finger. She flinches at his touch, but does as he asks.

What the shadows hid is now unveiled by torch light. Her face is a map of bruises and lesions. Cuts that Diomedes notices would match the rings on the fingers of the accused. Her eyes are red and swollen, and he can make out more wounds peeking out from underneath the girl's tattered robes. Tell-tale blood speckles the hem. Virginal blood, he realizes.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you," he whispers to the girl.

The kindness is too much and tears spill forth from her eyes. She breaks down into sobs that violently wrack her body. He is equally devastated for her. No longer a virgin, she will not be able to continue being a priestess. Her livelihood stripped from her. Her divine link broken the moment her hymen was. It was a cruel thing done to her, the cruelest that could have been done short of killing her. Then again, watching as the girl crumble before him, Diomedes contemplates that Hades and the Underworld may have been kinder.

Diomedes immediately calls upon several of his own servants to come attend to her. Once he is sure she will be taken care of, he turns back to Cadmus.

A shadow has fallen over the young Argive king's face. He nods curtly to his guards who take the Athenian from Cadmus's men.

"Throw him out of the city and let the vultures have at him," Diomedes barks to the guards. "He is no longer a welcomed guest. Let no man or woman aid him and should they do so they will be penalized with the harshest of punishments. If he survives the night with his wounds then the gods have mercy on him, for I do not."

The guards quickly move to do as their king commands. The man curses and screams, but no one heeds his protestations. His indignant howls soon fade into nothingness as they guards haul him further away. Once silence has fallen once again, Diomedes turns to the Thebesian king.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Cadmus. I apologize for doubting you."

"No, it was I who had overstepped my boundaries as guest."

Clasping a hand on the other man's shoulder, Diomedes smiles and says, "Well, let's say no more of the matter and enjoy the rest of the evening. Unless you have a previous engagement, please join me and my guests."

Cadmus grins back at him, but before they could join the rest of revelers in the adjacent room, Diomedes's counselor had put a hand on his elbow to still him.

"My king, forgive me for further interruption… but the banishment of that Athenian leaves a hole in the tournament. The chariot race tomorrow is now uneven."

Diomedes sighs, pressing his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. The duty of planning such festive events as the tournament usually fell to the queen, but as a newly unwed king, he finds himself shouldering the responsibility. It's a complaint that he would be pained to confess to his advisors who are already anxious for him to select a queen to share his bed.

"Kingship is not easy, is it not?" Cadmus says with humor in his voice.

"No, it is not," Diomedes mutters. "Please, go on ahead. I must deal with this matter and confer with my counselor."

Before Cadmus moves on, a voice calls out. "I have a suggested solution for your problem, Diomedes."

The voice that had spoken came from a dark-haired, handsome youth who had only just walked into the room.

Diomedes's expression becomes alert, his back straightening in the presence of the newcomer. The change in the Argive king's demeanor does not escape Cadmus's notice.

"Oh? And who do you suggest to be a contender?" Diomedes asks, his tone cool.

The dark haired youth smiles, a wolfish sort of smile. There was something slightly lupine about him.

"Why me, of course."

An uneasy silence follows, prickling the hairs on the back of Cadmus's arms. Taking in their newly joined guest, Cadmus notices the finery of his robes. There is an air of privilege to the young man and considering that he is present at Diomedes's private gathering, the Thebesian king concludes that he must be a high dignitary of some sort. But try as he might, Cadmus could not think whom.

"I'm sorry, but I don't seem to have been introduced. May I ask who you are?" The Thebesian king inquires, curiosity getting the best of him.

Before the wolfish youth could answer, Diomedes cuts in.

"Cadmus, please forgive my lapse in etiquette. May I introduce to you one of my honored royal guests. This is Paris, prince of Troy."

Xxx

Rather than alleviating his mood, his conversation with Athena had worsened it. Ares sought to put the aggravating goddess out of his mind to no avail. As she had said, now that their misunderstanding was resolved, there was nothing left between the two of them. They will occasionally cross paths, of course. Olympus is only so large and their realms of domain often intersect. But nothing more. And that, inexplicably, upsets him.

The little blonde goddess weaseled her way under his skin, haunted his dreams and waking thoughts, and now she has the audacity to declare that she would have nothing further to do with him. It would not do.

Given his sour mood, he only wished to see Cadmus briefly to give the mortal some parting advice for the morrow before returning home, the festivities no longer holding any temptation for him. As he crosses the Argive palace's corridors, he passes a face he would be blind to not recognize. Tell-tale olive skin and brunette hair the color of deep walnut, he's on familiar terms with the appearance of Aphrodite despite her long absence. He stops, thinking she would acknowledge him but she continues on, not giving him a second look.

Feeling slighted, he follows her, latching his hand onto her wrist to still her movements.

"I would have thought that you would have at least had the courtesy to say hello. Or are we past mere courtesy now? I guess I shouldn't have expected much, especially when you go missing for several moons without a word."

She merely stares at him in response, her large honey brown eyes blinking blankly at him. The doe-like look somehow aggravates him, especially when it contrasts so with the memory of Athena's razor sharp gaze.

"If you've found yourself a new bed to occupy then you could've just said so, my dear. It is not like either of us have committed to one another. That would not have angered me so. But do you know what does?"

Tightening his grip he yanks her towards him, his voice taking on a low, deep tone, dark like the smoldering of coals.

"Deception."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," the girl replies, her face taking on a startled look.

"Do not play with me, seductress. You can drop all pretenses. I've already spoken to your sister. I know of your deceit and I refuse to let you go until you tell me your motive. Contrary to popular belief, I can rein in my temper to many a slights, but I have little patience for dishonesty."

Her eyes widen, fear apparent in them. "Unhand me, sir. You've mistaken me for someone else. I know not what you speak of."

He lifts an eyebrow at her. "Now, now, Aphrodite. Let's not play coy, love," he says, his grip on her arm tightening.

"My name is Helen," the girl insists.

"Is that what you have the mortals calling you?"

"Unhand her," a male voice booms.

Ares had not noticed before, but a plump elderly man, dressed in the royal advisor's clothes, accompanies the maiden.

"Leave, mortal, you know not what you interfere with."

The man's wrinkled face splits into a grin.

"On the contrary, Ares. It is you who remains blind to what is before you."

And then, as Ares watches, the old man's features blur and ripple, like a sheet of fabric falling to the floor. Where the man stood was the exact mirror image of the girl Helen.

Ares's eyes narrow with understanding.

"Aphrodite," he breathes.

She smiles at him, cocking her head to the side like a swan would.

"Hello, Ares. I have missed you so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just to clarify, for those who have doubts, Tyler is Paris. Think season one Tyler who is a bit more dickish and cocky. The ball is really rolling with him and Helen occupying the same city. And what with all the drama of the gods in the forefront. I'm really excited with where this fic is going and I just wanted to say thanks for reading and supporting me and being so patient with the updates. If you have time drop a review. Nothing feels better than logging into my email and seeing ffnet notifications and reading them! Until the next chapter, I'll be on tumblr. =P
> 
> [i] An abbreviated quote from Tyrtaeus of Sparta. The original reads "Here is courage, mankind's finest possession, here is the noblest prize that a young man can endeavour to win." .   
> [ii]Argos is supposed to be Hera's patron city, as Athens is Athena's.  
> [iii] The Heraion of Argos is one of the major temples of Hera. wiki/Heraion_of_Argos  
> [iv] I have romanized the greek, but originally the term looks like this: φειδωλία, φιλαργυρία which literally translates to "sparing avarice", and basically refers to Occam's Razor. The theory in which the simplest answer is the correct one. wiki/Occam's_razor


	7. Part VII

Title: All's Fair - Prequel to In Love and War

Author: fadingtales

Fandom: TVD, Greek Gods AU

Ship: Klaus/Caroline Forbes, with hints of Stefan/Caroline, Damon/Katherine

Rating: M

Previous chapters

A/N: THANK YOU to all who have stayed loyal to this story and have bugged me for updates. I'm sorry for making you wait this long and I can't promise that updates will start getting regular because I don't really know what's going to happen with my writing muse and RL has been rather busy, but I really do appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and review and leave comments and tell me how much they love this story. I do have an ending planned (it's just the actual writing that's tough!) and I promise that if for some reason I really do decide to give up on this fic (knock on wood) I will post everything that I've already written for the future chapters and details on my plans for the ending so there will be some closure. Again, thank you so much for your support. I hope you like this chapter. _

Part VII

A beat passes and then another, cicadas chirps in the background and the earth spins on its axis. Neither the god of War nor the goddess of Love moves.

"My lady!"

Helen's plead is the only thing to break the silence. Aphrodite tears her gaze away from Ares momentarily to turn towards her mirrored half.

"Fear not, child. I will let no harm come to you." Turning her gaze back to Ares she says, "The girl is under my protection, Ares. Unhand her, please."

Ares has a mind to crush the girl's wrist in his palms, but fights the urge. His qualms are with Aphrodite, not her mortal puppet, and so he does as she asks. The moment he releases the girl, Helen runs to her mistress.

"There, there, sweetling" Aphrodite coos, stroking the girl's face. "You mustn't frown, it will mar your beauty."

The girl nods obediently and casts her mistress a radiant smile. It was an eerie thing to look at the two of them, so alike they were in appearance. Ares can't imagine what it must feel like for Aphrodite to stare at the girl. It's as if her reflection turned to life.

"Go to your rooms," Aphrodite commands. "And remember to cover your face, as I've told you." The girl obeys without hesitation, lifting a veil over her features.

Once her doppelganger has disappeared, Aphrodite turns to Ares, a placating smile on her lips.

"Have you missed me, Ares? I have missed you so."

"Do you have time to miss anyone, Aphrodite? I would presume you were too busy scheming."

Aphrodite pouts, a make-believe kind of hurt registering on her face.

"Your words are barbed tonight. I was planning on finding you. We have things to discuss."

He holds up his hand to silence her.

"Save your breath, temptress. I already know of your deceit."

Aphrodite swallows and looks distraught, but she does not say a word to the contrary.

"Oh? Pray tell, what salacious misunderstanding have you uncovered?"

"Misunderstanding is it? Then tell me about Athena."

Aphrodite stiffens at her sister's name.

"What about her?"

"That night we first met, the blonde girl in the mask... that was Athena wasn't it? You pretended to be her. You made me believe you were her. You've lied to me from the very start. "

"I did not lie, you assumed," she points out.

"It matters not. The truth remains-"

"The truth remains that aside from debauchery, nothing of consequence happened on that oh so fateful night between you and Athena." She walks towards him, places a hand on his shoulder, soft and cool. Eyes pleading. "What about our nights? Nights where we've poured our souls, shared our loneliness. Ranted about Zeus, the heavens, and drank wine until we forgot our ramblings. Surely one night with her, under false pretenses, means less to you than all of our evenings together after."

"And you do not say that those evenings together were not under false pretenses? If they were genuine as you suggest then why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"I did not lie-"

"You omitted the truth," Ares bites out. "The betrayal is the same."

Aphrodite remains still, casually watching him with unblinking eyes.

"Do you love Athena now that you know it was her?"

Ares doesn't speak.

"You are naive," Aphrodite laughs. "I never thought you such a soft hearted romantic."

Ares remains unruffled by her prodding.

"I'm done with you and your manipulations. It's over." He does not scream, he doesn't yell. He doesn't have to. The words ring loud and clear on their own.

As he turns to stomp off, Aphrodite gracelessly clutches his hand. Her next words will silence any protest he means to swear.

"I am with child, Ares."

The universe stills and the air hangs heavy with the words.

"What did you say?"

Should this be another lie he does not think he could rein in his wrath so he gives her a chance to retract the words. The implication is set in his eyes and he knows that she recognizes it in the question and his gaze.

"I said I am with child," Aphrodite repeats calmly.

He had expected many things from Aphrodite, but not this.

His stunned silence elicits a smile to curve Aphrodite's lips.

"Aren't you going to ask if it is yours?" she asks, eyebrow raised high.

"Is it?"

The words fall from his lips with a strange hopefulness that Aphrodite did not expect, a kind of softness that doesn't suit him. Not the way that she knows him anyway. It's enough to make the haughty smile on her lips freeze. If only for a moment.

"Whether or not is it... the truth remains that Athena won't take you. Not when she finds out. She'd see you as abandoning your own and Athena will never be with someone so heartless."

"You mean to blackmail me?"

"I mean to persuade you!" Aphrodite speaks with a sudden passion that takes him off guard. "You and I understand one another. Has one lie undone all that has passed between us?"

She presses her hand against his cheek, wills him to look at her.

"Do not reject me," her voice is pleading, but he cannot shake the doubt clouding his thoughts.

She senses his hesitation and takes his hand into his, presses it against her belly.

"Do not reject this child. Whether or not it is yours... do not make it a bastard."

Bastard. Such an awful word. He flinches away from it the way she knew he would. She knows him now all too well. He has confessed too much to her siren ears and she knows exactly which buttons to press to sway him.

The earth seems to shift beneath his feet, rocking as if Poseidon were stirring up a tsunami. Ares closes his eyes and stills himself. His palm feels warm from where it lays against Aphrodite's belly. He cannot abandon this seedling inside her. Whether or not it is his, he has suffered too much as a fatherless child to let another suffer the same fate.

When Aphrodite brings his hand up against her cheek, he lets her. But when he speaks, his words are ice.

"For the goddess of love, you make it difficult to love you."

She swallows hard and he almost believes the heartbreak in her voice to be true.

"We were never in love anyways. That's the problem isn't it? We are always in love with somebody else. Perhaps that's why we got along so well."

He answers with silence.

She releases his hand and she expects him to turn away, . She has miscalculated, pushed him too hard, too soon. Layered too many lies that they've now all come undone.

"I want to name the child."

She stares at him, shocked by the request.

"I want to name the child," he repeats.

He has lived life being called many things, bastard among them, but tonight he will make vow to the fates that he will not let the child in Aphrodite's womb be called such a name.

Aphrodite nods solemnly. "What shall he be called?"

Ares closes his eyes for a moment, thinking. When he opens them again, he says, "Aeneas. The child shall be called Aeneas."

Aeneas, Aphrodite thinks. It means to be praiseworthy. A strong name for a child. One that bears lofty expectations. A name meant for a hero. This child will be no bastard. Not with a name like that.

"It's a beautiful name," Aphrodite whispers.

In the dim light of the moon, Ares can pretend he doesn't see the tears glistening in Aphrodite's eyes.

xxx

Diomedes retires to his room late, his head buzzing with wine and a headache. Sinking into his chair, he pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. Trepidation burdens the young king. The rape of the priestess is an ill omen. She had belonged to Hera, the Mother Goddess and patron of his city. Hera will not take kindly to such a slight on the eve of such a celebration. He only hopes that his judgment of the culprit will be enough to satisfy her, but he is only mortal and cannot predict the will of the gods.

And then there's Paris.

Diomedes considers himself impartial to most company, but he must admit that he is not fond of the Trojan prince. It seems as if Paris has been hell-bent on getting on his wrong side from the start. He has found the Trojan's humor to be grating and his arrogance offensive. Try as he might, the two of them were unmixable compounds, their conversations always veering towards antagonism despite Diomedes's best efforts to do otherwise. Alas, Paris is a royal guest and Troy an ally of Argos. He knows he cannot risk offending him. He merely tells himself there will be at most only one more torturous day of his company.

Diomedes closes his eyes and leans back into his chair, his head tilting back. Already kingship is taking its toll on him. The one good thing out of all of this is Helen. She easily earns her title of the most beautiful mortal woman in the world, as his advisors are so keen to remind him. They have not been mute about their desire to wed him, Helen being a prime candidate. And while he finds himself fond of the surprisingly soft spoken and sweet tempered Spartan princess, he does not think he loves her yet. It is a foolish and naive thing, but he had always believed that when he married, he would marry for love. Politics beg to differ.

What is love anyways? He thinks to himself. He does not know why he is so resistant to his advisor's wishes. They speak merit. He enjoys Helen's company, she is kind and beautiful. What more can he want out of a wife?

Athena's image in the arena flashes just then and he shakes his head violently to clear it. No, he cannot think of her in the midst of such complicated thoughts. He drops his head into his hands, rubbing his eyes as if he can rub away her image.

"Gods, what am I to do?" he whispers aloud. He tells himself that he has no business coveting the attentions of a goddess, but he is mortal and mortals are full of vice.

"You look weary."

He starts at the sound of the voice. Blinking in the darkness of his room, he vaguely makes out a female shaped figure across the room. The figure steps towards him and the moonlight illuminates her face. Athena.

She looks so ethereal in the dim lighting that he cannot tell if she is really there or just an illusion conjured by his wine soaked mind.

"Is this a dream?" he asks, his voice more unsteady than he likes.

She smiles at him. "If this is a dream then I would turn into a bird right about now."

"You're a god," he retorts. "You can turn into a dragon with three heads with the snap of your fingers if it suits you."

"Ah, yes. So I can," she says, still smiling.

He realizes then that she is teasing him and his pulse quickens.

"It's warm tonight is it not?" he says, standing up abruptly. He is unsteady on his feet and teeters, but Athena is quickly at his side to steady him.

She laughs a little as she helps him sit back down.

"I see you've worshiped Dionysus tonight."

"He is a terrible yet persuasive god," Diomedes says, rubbing his temple.

"That he is," Athena agrees, grinning. She places a cool hand against his forehead and says, "I can make the headache go away."

He smiles at her, but shakes his head. "Not this one. I fear it's not alcohol induced."

The curves of Athena's mouth droops and a wrinkle forms between her brows. "I'm sorry for earlier tonight. I did not mean to abuse our friendship to pull such melodramatic stunts. I should've told you what I had planned to do."

"You make me blasphemous. How can a goddess seek permission from a mortal? Or even forgiveness? I should be kneeling at your feet. You gave me your divine sanction to be king in front of the entire world. There is no coronation gift more precious. No mortal has ever felt more blessed. I will sacrifice three virgin sheep and a goat at your alter in the morning."

She gives him a pointed look. "You tease me."

"How would I dare! Do the sheep and the goat not please you? I can have men fetch a lion at dawn, perhaps that is more fitting?"

His serious expression cracks and turns into a smile. Athena feels a weight lift off her shoulders, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Save that humor of yours for the diplomats tomorrow," she says in mock admonishment. "You still have many royals to impress tomorrow, the chariot race being the key event. I've came to speak to you about the matter."

Diomedes groans at the reminder. "I only pray that I survive until they all leave."

Athena laughs at his melodramatics. "For all of your groaning, the festivities seem to be coming along well."

"Is it? I feel like a duck, still on the surface, but scrambling underwater. I can plan a battle, hell even that blasted infrastructure bill was easier to deal with, but these parties are a whole different kind of beast.

Athena laughs, recalling Diomedes agonizing over the bills to mandate repairs and reconstruction of the city's bridges, sewers, and ports.

"Nonsense," Athena chides. Reaching over, she grabs the scattered parchment on his table. "The art of war is similar to the art of social functions. You plan seating arrangements the way you plan soldiers in a formation." Her eyes flick over the scribbles and figures, rearranging them with the flick of her hand. She smiles at her handiwork. "There. Much better."

Diomedes smiles. "I never knew you enjoy such things."

Athena shrugs, "It's like a puzzle. I like piecing things together. The world makes more sense this way."

"Alas I do not have the gift of your intellectual prowess or your knack for seating arrangements. It would be easier if..." he trails off, but she knows what he means to say.

"If you had a wife to plan them for you," she finishes.

So quickly has the burden return to her shoulders. Diomedes's nuptial is an impending and inevitable event. He cannot rule properly without a queen by his side. As it is the nature of kings to have wives. Someone to share his throne, his bed, and his life in a way that she cannot.

He nods demurely. "Something my advisors are keen on reminding me."

Athena nods in agreement, her expression sober. "They are wise to advise you so. There are rumors that Tyndareus's daughter, the lady Helen of Sparta, is in attendance."

Athena briefly recalls a veiled female figure up in the balconies besides Diomedes at the arena.

"Yes," Diomedes confirms. "My advisors have made her my… special guest for the tournament."

"Does she displease you? I have not yet seen her face to be a judge, but I hear she holds the title for the most beautiful mortal woman in the world. Surely your standards aren't so high?"

"Her beauty is not the problem," Diomedes retorts.

"Argos and Sparta relations are still tense from the dominance of Peloponnese. A marriage-alliance would be beneficial in concluding that affair. It would be the logical thing to do."

She could kick herself for being so logical.

"I thought you came to advise me on the chariot races."

"I did, but when have I ever only offer you singular advice?" she replies. After a beat she adds, "Helen would not make a terrible wife."

Diomedes looks away. He does not wish to weigh the pros and cons of wives with Athena; he did not wish to discuss them at all.

"It's getting late," he says, rubbing his eyes. "And as you've said... I have a chariot race tomorrow. I wish to rest."

He does not know why, but he feels a storm brewing in the space that hangs between him and Athena. It is a shift, ever so slight yet completely irreparable. Perhaps it is only the weight of his crown, but he is no fool and he has a feeling that more trouble than he yet knows is on the horizon.

Athena looks like she wants to say more, but reluctantly nods. Leaning forward she places a soft kiss on his forehead.

"Rest well, Diomedes. I will watch over you."

Diomedes blinks and in the span of time it takes him to close and open his eyes, Athena is gone.

xxx

Paris watches a couple of drunks still meandering about in the streets below him from his high vantage point on the balcony. He practices his aim by drawing his bow and arrow and shooting at their feet. He finds it amusing when they scamper about, looking every which way for the source of the arrows.

"You have a cruel sense of humor."

Paris lowers his arrow and turns his head to look at the figure lounging in his bed.

Cadmus lays there, naked underneath the sheets. Paris's eyes roam along the curves of the young Thebesian king's body, a smirk forming on his lips.

Spreading his arms wide in an innocent manner he says, "And yet here you are."

"I blame the wine," Cadmus counters, getting up from his reclining position. The expensive sheets fall from his naked body, but he doesn't bother with covering himself up.

"And you have such a pretty face," Cadmus smirks.

Paris tosses his weapons carelessly aside and walks towards the dark brunette king. Cadmus is still mesmerized by how the Trojan prince can move like a wolf, all lupine grace and skill.

Paris stops when their noses almost touch. Cadmus smiles and inclines his head to the side so that their mouths can meet. Paris's kisses are rough, all teeth and tongue, possessive. Cadmus did not mind.

Their intimacy is interrupted when knocking sounds at the door.

"Business this late?" Cadmus inquires, raising his eyebrow.

Paris ignores his question and barks, "Come in." to the visitor.

The door swings open and on the other side is one of Diomedes's advisors. If he is surprised to see two of the royal guests disrobed and sharing a bedroom, it does not show on his stern, angular face. Then again, Cadmus has never seen the intimidating chancellor of the Argive court ever lift his dark, bearded lips into any semblance of a smile. For all he knew, the man did not have any other expressions other than sternness.

The chancellor coughs, careful to keep his line of sight above the waistline.

"Apologies, my lords. I did not realize I was intruding. I had come to speak to Prince Paris about the chariot races tomorrow, considering that he is a late entry he must be briefed."

"The hour is late, must he be briefed now?" Cadmus asks.

"I'm afraid that because of the scheduling, it must be done," the chancellor replies, folding his arms into the sleeves of his heavily embroidered peacock green robes.

Cadmus turns to Paris, an incredulous look on his face. "Surely, you can ask him to come back tomorrow."

"The race is important."

"More than me?"

Paris roughly grasps Cadmus's face with one hand and kisses him hard. The chancellor's face remains unchanged throughout the entire exchange.

"Yes. Now get out," the Trojan prince says dismissively, mouth still pink and swollen from their kissing.

Cadmus shakes his head, bitter laugh in his throat. "You're an ass."

Paris watches the Thebesian king snatch his robes from the floor and stomp past the Argive advisor, his expression unmoved. The moment the door slams, Paris turns his gaze to the bearded chancellor.

"Is everything ready as according to plan?"

The chancellor nods. "Diomedes knows not what Troy plots."

"It wouldn't be a plot if he knew," Paris counters.

"I assure you, everything is in place. Your victory tomorrow is all but guaranteed."

"It's not a mere chariot victory that Troy wants. It's the kingdom. And for that to happen the new Argive king must be disposed of. Just like his father before him."

"Any problems that arises will not be from my end," the chancellor promises. After a beat he says, "I'm surprised by your bed companion... will he be a problem?"

Paris waves his hand dismissively. "Nothing of the sort."

"I thought you were interested in the lady Helen."

"I am," Paris shrugs.

Stepping back onto the balcony, now empty of straggling drunks, he looks towards the castle. The moon is full and round tonight and he can make out Helen's rooms high up in the towers, facing the marketplace. He can vaguely make out her figure in the distance, disrobing.

"I am interested in all that Diomedes possesses. If Troy is to take his kingdom, then it would only be fitting that we take his future queen as well. She is not my usual taste, but still..." Paris continues to watch the shadowed figure of Helen as she readies herself for bed, "an exquisite creature. If I am to be King of Troy someday then it's only right to have the most beautiful woman in the world as my prize, don't you agree?"

Paris picks up his wine goblet from the side of the bed and raises it to the bearded advisor in a toast, "To Argos's downfall and Troy's eternal glory."

Paris downs his wine in a single gulp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, lips splitting in a grin.

xxx

The trumpet sounding startles Diomedes into focus. Dreams haunt him, but he remembers not of what. Below him, at the base of the hill soldiers clear the tracks of spectators. He scans the balconies and spots Helen in the distance. A red veil covers her face, but he recognizes her all the same. His chancellors and other members of the royal court stand beside her in the audience. She raises her hand in a wave to him and though he cannot see it, he knows she's smiling. The memories of her smile come unbidden and it is not a smile he detests. He could do worse than to wake up every morning to that kind of smile, he thinks to himself. But then again, the minimum requirement should not be what he seeks in a wife.

He shakes his head to clear the unnecessary thoughts. He has more urgent things to worry about than his future bride at the moment. To his left he spots Paris tending to his steed. While most of the others have men to tend to their horses, Paris minds his own with precision and care. Somehow the act nullifies a bit of the hostility Diomedes has towards the Trojan prince. And then Paris lifts his head and gives him an infuriating smirk that sends him reeling back into distaste. Perhaps they are just not met to get along, no matter how admirable the Trojan's diligence towards his horses.

He tears his gaze away from Paris and looks forward, towards the race tracks curving through the city streets and beyond. His eyes study the curves of the road. The track loops through the city, past the markets, the shops, into the outskirts of town and through the farmlands and over the ravine before it came round again.

Another trumpet sounds, signaling that the race would soon start. As his men escort him onto his chariot he casts one last glance at his competitors. The butterflies in his stomach were turning carnivorous. Victory seemed an unattainable thing. To win the race with Paris as a competitor would mean to offend his royal guest. Knowing how prideful the Trojan prince was, Diomedes knew that his victory would mean diplomatic disaster. And yet he could not lose. Not in his own city, in front of all his people, not as a newly crowned king in a tournament in his honor. That would be monarchical catastrophe. Either side of the coin toss, he would lose.

Gods, how he wish he had Athena's advice now.

A third trumpet blares through the air and the crowd roars into life. Their screams roar in Diomedes' ears. And then the flag is raised, his hands reach for the reins, the shouting and the throbbing of his heartbeat turns into a cacophony. Sweat makes his grip loose so he tightens his hold. He can see the Trojan prince from the corner of his eyes. Ignoring Paris, he sweeps his gaze across the sea of people lining the sides of the tracks. As if answering his prayers, his eyes meet Athena's, as if they were drawn to her by command. The blue of her eyes are extraordinary in the way only a goddess's could be and they speak of things he does not know. A shrewd smile curls her lips, but he doesn't get a chance to comprehend her perplexing expression when the flag comes down with a whoosh, slicing the air.

In unison every chariot rider lining the starting line snaps his reins and takes off. His unanswered questions remain behind in the billows of dust.

xxx

The race has begun and Athena knows that time is of the essence. She has only a small window of opportunity to do what she must and she hastens to her feet.

Wrapping herself with her cloak, she disappears into the crowd. Her disappearance should have gone unnoticed had not a certain god of war been watching her since she first arrived amongst the spectators. Ares sees past her illusion, past the invisible cloak, and with the kind of curiosity that brought upon Pandora's downfall, he follows her.

Athena is swift, having borrowed Hermes's winged shoes. Her feet barely touch the ground and soon she finds herself ahead of the charioteers. Looking over her shoulder she sees them as little black pin pricks picking up dust in the distance. But every second she stands there staring at them is another second lost. Reminded of her urgent task she turns away from the race and in her haste runs face first into the hard, muscled chest of one inconveniently placed god of war.

She gasps, stumbling backward. Ares reaches out a hand and catches her wrists, pulling her back on her feet. Quickly overcoming her initial surprise, she wrenches her hands from his.

"What are you doing here?"

She was of the belief that the ties between them had been severed by the previous night. It unnerved her to see him again so soon.

"I spotted a stray mouse up to no good," he replies with a shrug. "And decided I could use the chase. Seems like I beat you here."

Her eyes narrow with skepticism. "That's impossible, I have Hermes's wings."

"You forget that a characteristic of war is that it is swift and ruthless, my dear."

She glares at him, but doesn't refute and he mentally notches that as a small victory in his favor.

Tearing his gaze away from her daggered stare, he glances quickly around at their surroundings. A single barn stands behind them, from which he could hear stamping hoofs from beyond the other side of the door. "What are you plotting?"

"None of your business."

"It would be if you are planning on rigging the race."

She doesn't bother to confirm or deny, but further narrowing of her eyes is enough.

A smile blossoms on his face and he lets out a laugh that seems to only prickle her some more. "My, my...the great goddess Athena, goddess of wisdom and virtue, cheating."

"I'm not cheating," she grinds out indignantly.

"Oh? Then what are your plans for the beast behind this door?" Ares taunts, hand gesturing towards the barn behind him. On cue, the creature kicks its feet against the barn door. "I smell sabotage."

What you smell is manure, Athena mentally retorts. Instead she says, "I'm not seeking victory for any particular chariot."

"Your doll eyes for the Argive king say otherwise."

She's taken off guard by his comment and stutters a response. "I was not making doll eyes! And you are wasting my time. Get out of my way."

Ares's voice suddenly takes on a more calculative tone. "What will I get in return?"

"What?"

"If I help you, what will I get in return?"

Athena catches her bottom lip between her teeth in frustration. She can tell by the way Ares's eyes dance that he was toying with her.

"I don't need your help."

She reaches past him, but he steps to the side, blocking her.

"Then I'll rephrase. What will I get if I do not interfere your plans?"

"You will get to keep your head on your shoulders," she snaps.

Ares tsks, pursing his lips. "Now, surely the goddess of wisdom has better skill of persuasion..."

Athena glares at him, not saying a word. Not because she is without a retort, he is sure the feisty goddess has more choice vocabulary to share with him, but he can tell by the way her eyes bore into him that there were gears turning in her head. She was dissecting the situation, probably calculating the best way to dispose of him the most efficiently.

"How's this? I'm going to propose you a deal... if I-"

He never gets to present his proposal. His sentence is smothered by her lips. And with her lips upon him his mind is a blank canvas whereupon her tongue is the brush and the image being painted is of her and her and more her. She coats every corner of his thought like spilled ink and all at once he feels consumed and yet whole.

She presses against him until he's pushed backwards with his back against the rough splintered wood of the barn. For such a small creature she is stronger than he expects, equal parts firm and softness and completely undeniable.

Her fingers snake into his hair, wraps around his sandy curls, pulling him closer. His hands splay across her hips. The feel of her curves beneath his palms making his mind reverberate with memories of their first night together. How faraway that seems now. He had not even known how much exactly he yearned for her touch until this very moment. His dreams of her do no justice for the real thing. And all of this from a mere kiss.

If wine had the taste of her lips, he thinks he would willingly become a drunkard who would put Dionysus to shame.

So lost he is in Athena's kisses that he doesn't notice that she's unlatched the door behind him until the bull comes charging out, nearly trampling him in the process.

His heart hammers behind the jail of his ribs, threatening to burst. The loss of her lips is punishing, curbed only by the image of her before him, lips pink and swollen and her eyes glassy like dew droplets.

"What were you going to say?" The smugness of her tone is slightly ruined by her panting for breath.

She is a completely frustratingly ravishing creature.

Glancing past her shoulders he sees the bull rushing towards the race tracks. As if timed perfectly, its path intersects with the riders right before they reach the bridge over the ravine.

"You tricked me," he accuses.

"I distracted you," she corrects.

Her self-satisfied smile only makes him want to kiss her again. He takes a determined step towards her and she doesn't step back. He does not know if the expression she wears is of defiance or desire. He's only certain of his own emotions and that is Prometheus knows no agony as is his for the loss of her lips.

He takes another step and she still does not flinch. The space between them feels magnetic. He could easily close the gap with just one more step. Her mouth parts and he can feel her breath warm on his skin.

A commotion on the tracks distracts them both. Several chariots have overturned and the horses are rearing and stamping their feet at the sudden invader. Frightened, they scramble, running into the paths of spectators and destroying everything in their path. The sound of trumpets blowing stops the race. Chaos has erupted and people are panicking and fleeing in all directions in order to avoid getting trampled by the ravaging beasts.

From where they stand upon the hill, they watch as the Diomedes dismount from his chariot, despite being in the lead, to try and control the situation. He quickly commands his men to herd the crowds away from the path of the charging bull. The other charioteers all dismount and tend to their panicked steeds. Soon the horses are under control, their reins back in the hands of their masters. The bull remains a different story.

It is a monster of a creature and it continues to wreck and terrorize all who cross it despite the Argive king's efforts to contain it.

"Step aside!"

Together they watch as the Paris pushes his way through the crowds, stripping his armor as he does so. Diomedes's men stand back, allowing the Trojan prince to approach the beast. Together, Diomedes and Paris each grab the creature by its horns, backing it towards a wall. It bucks and tosses it head violently.

Both Argives and Trojans have their weapons poised and ready to spear the bull should their king and prince be in danger, but Paris screams for them to stand down. Diomedes's men protest, unwilling to allow their king to be at risk for injury.

"I will have the head of any man who dare injures the bull!"

"You risk your own life, not our king's," the soldiers shout. To which the Trojan guests begin to answer angrily. Argument springs forth between the Argives and Trojans, tension rising in the air like a thick fog, buzzing like a swarm of hornets.

"Stand down. All of you! We shall do as Prince Paris says," Diomedes commands. This is enough to quiet both sides.

Turning to Paris, Diomedes asks in a low voice, "Can I trust you to tame this creature?"

"Yes," the Trojan replies.

Diomedes nods and they both turn their attentions back towards the raging bull.

Maneuvering in synchronization, Diomedes and Paris manage to confuse the bull into a state where it knows not where to turn. Despite their antagonism, they work well together, playing to their strengths instead of battling over who would lead. Diomedes is grateful for he knows he cannot bring down the creature alone. As it is, the bull continues to be difficult to restrain.

Diomedes tosses a rope that loops around the bull's neck and tugs it to the ground. Paris then jumps upon its back to hold it down. The crowd gasps and screams when it seems like the monstrous beast would impale the young prince on its massive horns. But it doesn't. After what seems to be an infinitely long struggle, the bull collapses from exhaustion, foam spewing at its mouth from its labored breath.

Silence blankets the crowd as the dust kicked up from the fallen creature blows across the now abandoned chariot tracks. A beat passes and then the crowd erupts into cheers so loud those on Olympus can hear the echoes.

Turning to Athena, Ares asks, "What have you accomplished?"

Her eyes are bright when she answers him. "Victory from which there were no victors."


	8. Part VIII

Title: All's Fair - Prequel to In Love and War

Author: fadingtales

Fandom: TVD, Greek Gods AU

Ship: Klaus/Caroline Forbes, with hints of Stefan/Caroline, Damon/Katherine

Rating: M

A/N: Quick update only because this was originally part of the last chapter, but I decided to chop it into a separate chapter because it made more sense that way. Don't get spoiled. I may not be this reliable for future chapters. _ Also this is unbeta'd so mistakes are abound! Thanks for reading! =)

**Part VIII**

 

Diomedes watch from his divan as people congratulates Paris, clasping their hands on his shoulders and back. The Trojan prince beams in the limelight. Despite all the games and tournaments that have taken place, battles fought and won and valor proven, the chariot race remains the single event that shines above all.

Throughout the day, people have been asking him to recount the heroic tale, but Diomedes had claimed the entire event was a blur to him. They praised him for his humility, but in seeking a better storyteller, they gravitated towards the outspoken Paris who was only all too happy to narrate the entire scene with great extravagance.

This allowed Diomedes the company of his thoughts with mild interruption. His head was abuzz. He had lied when he claimed the event was a blur. He remembers it all too clearly and most clear of all was Athena's eyes, piercingly blue and  _knowing_ , before the start of it all. He knows she's involved somehow, but he does not know how and it upsets him.

He looks again to the happy faces surrounding Paris, laughing and ah-ing over each delectable detail the Trojan spins. At face value, the taming of the bull was heroism, the kind of spectacular event that should grace the grand tournament of a king. They overlook the damage done to the city from the stampede, or those who were injured or hurt. These are the things Diomedes will have to deal with once everyone else has moved on, the fall out.

"You look tense," Helen says, placing her hand over his, shaking him out of his reverie.

Composing himself, Diomedes turns to her and smiles, shaking his head. "It's just been a long day. I'm weary, that is all."

"Well you did wrestle a bull," Helen says teasingly.

Diomedes chuckles, "I merely restrained it, Paris, over there is the one crazy enough to wrestle the creature."

Quirking her eyebrows at him, Helen swats his arm. "Are you jealous of the attentions the Trojan prince has won?"

Diomedes laughs. "Gods, no. Paris can soak up all the praise and attention as he likes. I'd much rather stay in the shadows."

"Well, if it matters any..." Helen leans forward and whispers into his ear, "My attention is all on you."

Her breath is warm and slightly spicy, like cinnamon. Turning to face her, Diomedes suddenly notices their close proximity. As it would be, somebody else has noticed as well.

"It seems like the prince would like to speak with you," Helen says, tilting her head towards Paris. She stands up in a singular graceful and fluid movement, her clothes rippling as she does so.

Making his way through the seas of people the prince of Troy stops in front of Diomedes. He inclines his head slightly and places his hand on his chest in salute. Diomedes rises from his seat to acknowledge the greeting.

"Paris," Diomedes says, forcing a smile.

"On behalf of Troy, I thank you for your hospitality."

"Of course, Troy and Argos are friends, are we not?" The words are loaded and Paris knows it. His lips twitch into a caricature of smile.

"Of course," he replies.

Behind Paris the Trojans have started loading their horses and carts with luggage, crates, and other possessions of the prince.

"Leaving so soon?" Diomedes inquires.

"My father calls for my return," Paris answers.

 

"That is a pity. We shall miss your presence."

Despite his cordial tone, Paris can tell Diomedes does not mean what he says.

 

"Alas I will return empty handed it seems. There was no victor for our race," Paris says, a slight twist of disdain on his lips.

"No, but it has a hero," Diomedes replies smoothly. "And you will not be going home empty handed." With a wave of his hands, several soldiers appear from beyond the gate dragging an enormous bull behind them.

"The bull that stampeded the race, it is yours. As a symbol of my thanks and as a gesture of friendship."

Paris watches as the soldiers, ten grown men, struggle to control the monstrous animal.

The Argive king places the reins to the bull into Paris's open palm. The moment that he does, the unruly creature stills. They both stare as the previously untamable beast goes docile.

Diomedes's lips twitch upwards in a bemused smile. "Somehow, I think gods meant for you to have him."

Paris stares at the Argive king. There is a ring of sincerity in the Diomedes's words that Paris could not ignore. Unlike his previous politeness, Paris does not doubt the king this time.

 

"Αντίο*, Prince Paris."

Breaking eye contact, Diomedes turns to his advisor. "Chancellor, will you please see to Prince Paris and all of his men's needs?"

"Of course, my king," the man replies, bowing.

With a last parting nod, Diomedes turns away, his cloak sweeping the floor as he does so. When the Argive king is no longer within view or earshot the chancellor sidles up besides Paris conspiratorially.

"Our plot failed," the chancellor grumbles lowly. "If the race had gone on just a little longer, the king would've crossed the ravine first and the bridge would have collapsed beneath him. It would have been the perfect crime. He had seen to the restoration of that bridge himself, it was a project left unfinished by his father. There would have been no suspicions."

"No point crying over spilt milk," Paris replies dryly.

"The bull's stampede may have deterred our plans, but it would have killed him had you not come to his aid," the chancellor points out.

"His men would have speared the bull before it came to that," Paris retorts.

"It was still a possibility-"

"There was no guarantee of death other than that of the beast," Paris replies, firmly. "And besides...how could I resist such a magnificent creature?" As if agree, the bull snorts.

Paris places his hand against the bull's head and glances back up at the silhouette of the Argive palace, its flag waving in the wind. In one of the open verandas, he spots Helen upon a divan. For a single moment their eyes meet. She regards him with a nod and a most enigmatic little smile.

"Perhaps it was fate," Paris says, eyes still upon the Spartan princess.

The bull snorts and stamps its feet, tearing his attention away from Helen. Rubbing his hand across its snout, the creature soothes.

"I think the gods have more in store for me yet."

xxx

Diomedes is on his way to his study after consulting with his advisors and physicians regarding the damages of the chariot race when the sound of clapping coming from behind him makes him spin around. Above him Athena perches on a wall. Her eyes are dancing with mischievous glee.

"I saw Troy's banners disappearing over the horizon. Well done, young king. I'm impressed by your diplomacy. Prince Paris will not soon forget your gift to him."

He returns her smile with solemnness.

"Athena..."

"Did you know that the Trojan prince has an affinity for bulls? His favorite pastime is to train them to battle against one another. I knew he would not be able to resist demonstrating his prowess."

"So the bull was your doing," he doesn't say it like a question, his intonation carefully measured.

Oblivious to Diomedes's tone, Athena revels in her own cleverness.

"When I found out that he had entered himself into the race I knew you could not have risked winning against him for fear of insulting the Trojans. Yet you could not lose in your own tournament as king. It was a diplomatic conundrum. Both paths before you were bleak," she shrugs. "So, I changed the odds."

"You could have told me this."

"I tried, if you'd recall," Athena says pointedly, "but you were drunk and you didn't seem to be in the mood to talk."

Diomedes's face is stony and he doesn't reply. It's not at all the exuberant reaction Athena had expected from him.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you know how many were injured because of that stampede?"

Athena's expression turns grave. "Eight men, five women and a child."

"So you do know," Diomedes replies. "Of course, you know everything don't you?"

"I'm a goddess," she says frankly. "Do you expect less?"

His mood does not lighten.

"I don't understand why you are upset."

"Because you put my people in danger, Athena!"

"It was the lesser evil. Those fourteen injuries are significantly less than the hundreds and thousands that could have occurred had you offended Troy. If you would only think about this logically, you will see that I am right."

"No, I see everything. I understand completely. Statistically, yes. You are correct. Fourteen injures means nothing in the scheme of things. Especially not to the gods. But these are my people, Athena. I cannot afford to think of their lives so lightly."

"No other  _god_ is more empathic to mortal plights than I. How many times have I demonstrated that? You've borne witness to it yourself. And despite what I may feel, sometimes I have to make the difficult decisions that will benefit the greater good of humanity. You will have to understand that if you are to be king, Dio."

The use of her childhood nickname for him is too much and it only fuels his anger. He does not need her to patronize him, to reveal his already overflowing insecurities about kinghood.

"Yes, you are the champion of us mortal heroes, but unlike you we are imperfect, flawed. When we inevitably fail, you will find others to replace us. I'm sorry to be such a disappointment."

His words cut her, a wound deeper than she thought words could cut.

"Where is this coming? Before you are my champion, you are my  _friend_. I did what I did today to protect you. That's all I've endeavored to do. I will not apologize for that."

"Perhaps it's time I learn to protect myself. You were right. I must learn to make the difficult decisions myself as king. I can't keep letting you fight my battles for me."

Silence draws out between them.

"I'm sorry," Diomedes says, his hands covering his face. "I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I  _am_ grateful. For what you've done, for all that you've done for me before today. I just... Perhaps I have just been living with my denials for so long I've come to believe them." He looks up at her. "And now it's time to face the truth."

"And what does facing the truth entail?" Athena asks cautiously.

"It means... I have decided to court Helen."

Wholly unexpected, the words feel like a physical slap to Athena, though she somehow manages to keep from stumbling backwards from the blow.

"As you've said she will make a good queen and Argos would benefit from being Sparta's ally. My kingdom will be stable with her by my side."

She listens as he throws her logic and reasoning back at her. Everything he says is true and she knows that he is merely taking her advice, but to hear them come from his mouth brings an unwanted twist to her stomach.

"And she's not an unlovely girl. She will bear me sons, I'm sure. They will have half Spartan blood in them and be warriors."

Somehow hearing him speak of a mortal future is more than she can bear and she raises her hand to silence him.

"That's enough. I know all the reasons why you should court Helen. You have no need to convince me of their merit."

A lump forms in Diomedes's throat. He already regrets everything he has said even if he knows it is all truth. And Helen... Perhaps he's trying to convince the both of them.

"You're my favorite, you know," Athena confesses. "More so than Odysseus, Jason, more so than your own father... you're my favorite. Did you know that?"

He does. And perhaps this is why it hurts him so.

"I only wish the best for you, but you're right. It's time I should stop arranging fate and let you find your own destiny."

"If you ever need me-"

 

"I will always  _need_ you, Athena. I just need to learn to stand on my own feet."

The words are bittersweet.

"Well, then if you ever find yourself stumbling..." She closes the gap between them, rises to the tips of her toes and presses her lips against his cheek. "I'll come. You only have to call."

Somehow it feels like good bye.

xxx

Her parting with Diomedes has left her in foul spirits. Her chest feels laden with lead and her head cloudy. As if in tune to her mood, Zeus has sent thunder clouds over Argos. As she wanders about the streets in her disguise, it begins to rain.

She finds herself tracing the path of the chariot race tracks, chasing the little muddy rivers that has formed from the rain. The water feels nice against her skin, clearing her thoughts. As she chases a leaf caught in the water's torrent, she hears screaming and shouting.

Following the clamorous voices, she reaches the ravine near the end of the race tracks. A small crowd of people has formed, rushing about in the rain in panic.

"Help! Please! My husband is stuck underneath the bridge! Please, somebody!"

Pushing her way through the crowds of people she sees the terrible ruin of the bridge that once reached across the other side of the chasm.

"What happened?" she asks a woman standing nearby.

"It seems like the man was trying to pull his cart across the bridge when the whole thing just went under. He's stuck down there now and no one seems able to get him out. It's just too dark for them to see. Poor soul, he'll be crushed for sure. Or if this rain won't let up, he'll drown."

Overhearing this, his wife's wailings grows louder, rivaling the rain and thunder.

Glancing around Athena spots several abandoned metal shields lying against the side of a nearby building.

"How many lanterns do we have?" Athena asks.

"A mere handful," a man speaks up.

Smiling, Athena says, "I have an idea."

xxx

Athena leads a group of men down to the ravine, their arms laden with the few lanterns they had and the shields. Once they've reach the ground floor, she directs them on how to position the shields and lanterns.

"I don't know what you mean to achieve with these shields, miss. There's just not enough light down here. There's no chance we can navigate through the wreck to find the man."

"Just position everything as I say and trust me."

Though skeptical, the men scurry to do as she asks. They just couldn't seem to deny the curiously enigmatic young woman. She has an oddly persuasive and commanding aura about her.

After several moments of bustling about, everything is in place.

"Turn on the lanterns!" Athena shouts.

Obediently the men do as she says. The moment the lanterns are lit, the entire place is suddenly flooded with light..

"My gods! How did you do that?" the man beside Athena says in awe.

"The shields are reflective," Athena reply simply. "And by arranging them this way with the lanterns, they reflect the most light towards the bridge. Now you must hurry!"

Without wasting any more time, the men rush to action, carefully removing rocks and debris. After what seems like an infinitely long time someone yells, "I think I see him!"

Athena's heart leaps up. Looking up above, she sees the man's wife clutching the woman beside her, watching at the edge of the cliff. A smile blossoms on her lip to see the woman's eyes light up with hope. Turning back to watch the men's progress, she can see a shadowed figure in the wreckage.

Her smile dies instantly the moment they pull the man out. In the brightness of the reflected lanterns, Athena can see that his head has been crushed in. Hades has already claimed him.

Athena has never heard a sound as heartbreaking as that of the man's wife when they carry his body to her. Diomedes accused her of missing the trees for the forest, that she only cared for the glory of mankind, but not its individuals. If that is so, why does her heart hurt as much as it does now?

"Don't blame yourself, dear. He must have died instantly. Not even the gods could've saved him," one of the men says, gently touching her shoulder.

The words, spoken kindly, do not make her feel any better.

Athena doesn't remember how she got back up out of the ravine, but she distinctly recalls the man's wife crying over her dead husband's body, the rain mingling with her tears and washing away his blood, turning the water pink. Eventually her neighbors manage to drag her away and carry her husband's body off to where it can be properly buried.

Athena remains in the rain, watching water build up in the ravine. Her eyes fixate on the wreckage of the bridge.

 _This shouldn't have happened,_  she thinks.

Making her way towards the edge of where the bridge had broken off, she recalls Diomedes signing a decree to have all the bridges on this side of the city torn down and built anew. The construction finished mere days before the tournament. Kneeling down and inspecting the wood, her suspicions are confirmed. The wood, despite the ruinous state it is in, is new.

Bridges don't just collapse on their own.

Perhaps it was just a case of faulty workmanship. And thankfully nobody has ever even been on this bridge before today because it was closed off for the chariot races.

And then it clicks. Her hands begin to tremble as the puzzle pieces fall into place before her. She wasn't the only one manipulating the fates.

_Somebody was trying to sabotage the chariot races._

xxx

Finding it impossible to shake the ghosts of her discoveries, Athena remains in Argos after the rain lets up. Unable to come up with logical explanations for motive or suspects or even confirmations of her paranoia, she finds herself wandering to the steps of the arena to sort out her thoughts. Something about basking in the spirit of the battles there calms her. The place is empty, except for a few servants sweeping the grounds and putting away weapons and armor.

She quietly watches them work, letting her thoughts drift when a familiar husky voice interrupts her.

"The tournament is over, so why is it that the Goddess of Wisdom is still lingering at the balconies? I didn't think sweeping would be an activity you enjoyed watching."

Athena starts. His scent, musk, sweat and something distinctly Ares, assails her senses as he steps into the empty space beside her. His presence seems to swallow up all the air in her lungs. She watches him from the corner of her eyes. The sight of him after all of her proclamations, vocal or otherwise, makes all of her conviction seem like lies.

"The fresh air helps me think," she answers belatedly, twisting her hands together.

The memory of the man crushed underneath the bridge nags at her, the truth seeker in her stirring.

"A man was nearly killed crossing the bridge over the ravine last night... it just occurred to me that the bridge was part of the race tracks."

"So what?"

"Don't you find that curious?"

Ares laughs. "I don't. Why waste your time? These mortal affairs are trifle things, Athena."

She's suddenly embarrassed for having confessed her suspicions at all to him. Perhaps because his words echo the same thing Diomedes had accused  _her_ of, not caring.

"You dismiss me, but do you not realize that without these  _trifle_ mortals, we would have none to worship us? You think yourself all powerful, but we are mere idols without them."

She thinks he will laugh, but instead he regards her seriously. His focused attentions have the effect of staring into the sun. It makes her dizzy and blind.

"Is that why you care? Self-preservation? If so you have nothing to fear. They are weaker than us." He points to one of the men working on sweeping clean the stadium. "You see there? An arrow can fly through the air right now, pierce his chest, puncture his heart. And soon someone else will be sweeping up his blood. The humans are fleeting so there's no use in getting attached.

She scoffs and shakes her head. His logic is of the typical boneheaded, bigoted fashion.

"You don't believe me?"

He turns his glare towards the humans in the stadium and utters a single word.

" _Aγχω._ "**

The man who was sweeping drops his broom. Like a puppet pulled by invisible strings he walks towards one of his companions and calmly, inexplicably wraps his hand around his throat, choking him. The other, alarmed, tries to pry him off, but he does not relent.

"What are you doing?"

Ares does not answer her. Doesn't look at 's eyes widen as the struggle below begin to escalate.

" _Τέμνω_ ," he says and one of the other men picks up a fallen knife from the floor. The others look at him with their hands upraised, fear evident in their eyes.

" _Aἰκία_ ," Ares whispers. And all hell breaks loose.

As if madness has overtaken all of the men, they cut and strike and strangle one another. Screams of pain and shouting fill the air. Athena's knuckles turn white from clenching the banister.

The violence is ascending new levels of brutality. When the commotion draws the attention of some soldiers they are soon drawn into the scuffle as well. Ares does not move, his glare, hard and cold, focused entirely on the men below.

"Stop it." Her voice is a dark whisper, gravely in Ares's ears. He does not yield, even as he feels her hot, hate-filled gaze boring into his skull. He is stubborn and prideful and he has a point to prove.

But she is Athena and she will not be ignored. Gripping his arm with supernatural strength, she wrenches his gaze from the arena and forces him to look at her.

"Ares, stop it! Stop it right now."

He yanks his arm away, but the moment he does she reaches out and encircles her hand around his wrist, pulling him roughly towards her.

"They are innocents," she bites out. "You've made your point. Now,  _stop_."

Her eyes, usually clear and blue, are now stormy skies and he feels if he stares into them any longer he will be swallowed into the eye of the storm.

Tearing his gaze away from hers, he turns back to the men and says softly, " _Ἀμνησία_."

The men immediately stop, hands dropping to their side like dolls. They are still for a moment and then they rub their eyes, shake their heads as if to clear some dark cloud that had previously occupied the space in their minds. With eerie unquestioning calm, they go back to their duties once more as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Athena releases a sharp breath and glares at her fellow god.

"That was completely uncalled for and unnecessary."

"It was a lesson," Ares replies. "Those men could rip each other apart until the sand is soaked with blood if I wished them to. And your precious Argive king? He is the same as the rest of them."

"You are cruel."

"I am a  _God_ ," Ares says simply. "And they are mortals. They are but specks of sand and we are the wind that carves dunes and hills and valleys. The humans can build cities in a year's span and we can tear them down with a single breath in mere seconds. We can move mountains, rivers, make it rain hail or fire at our choosing. We are  _Gods_." He enunciates each word carefully. He doesn't raise his voice, but it seems to boom in her ears.

His conviction shakes her, but she doesn't let it show.

"Thank you for the lesson. It won't be one I will forget soon," she grinds the words out, ice clinging to them. "Are you done with the lecture now or do you mean to torture me some more?"

"No," he answers severely. "I am reminding you who you are. I understand that you are close to these humans, but don't think for a second that you're one of them. You're not. A dragon cannot pretend itself a bird. You don't belong with them."

"Then who do I belong with? The likes of you?"

Her words are scorn, he knows this, and yet the answer is on the tip of his tongue.  _Yes. You belong with me._

It screams in his head, a symphony, a battle cry. All of his frustrations suddenly becoming clear. The realization is so deep and profound that he feels himself almost tearing asunder with the knowledge. He wants her. Athena, he wants her.

Instead silence draws out between the two of them. Her gaze, piercing blue, grows too heavy to hold and he is the first to look away, unable to hold the weight of her disdain.

"I did not come here for this," he says curtly, frustrated with himself. "I did not mean to engage in an argument with you." He does not look at her.

"Yet here we are," she says coldly. "It's a habit we seem unable to break."

He turns back to her then. "I'm here to break it," he responds.

She casts him a withering look, eyebrow arching. "Oh? You have such a way of showing your intentions."

He is a fool. How quickly he has made a mess of things. She did not need any more reasons to hate him.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. "I came to see you because I would like to propose a deal."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'm done striking wagers with you," she retorts. Before he can respond she says, "And no, I will not be kissing you again."

His lips quirk with amusement. "It's not a wager. Just... an agreement."

Curiosity tugs at her despite her misgivings. "What kind of agreement?"

"I'd like to request your company."

"My company," she parrots, skepticism evident in her voice.

"Yes," he replies exasperatedly. "And if you'd let me go on..."

"Oh yes, please do," she says with a tight smile.

Something about that little lilt of her lips, even as she was aggravating him so, even when she hates him so, makes his pulse race just a little bit faster.

"I need a sparring partner. I'd like that to be you."

"You already have many sparring partners," she responds.

"What? The mortal champions? They bore me and Dionysus cannot be bothered to put down his wine long enough to pick up a sword. Not that he'd be any good anyways. I need someone who can actually provide a challenge. Apollo is more interested in chasing maidens, Artemis is maddening, and Poseidon rarely ever leaves his domain. That leaves only you."

"I'm glad I'm so high up on your list," she drawls.

"Were you not listening? You're the  _only_ one on the list. You're the only one that understands war the same way I do."

 

"I highly doubt that we understand war the same way," she drawls. He probably just cares about how high he can get the body count.

"You have the freedom to reject me, but as far as I am concerned no one else will do. I just thought I'd let you know that."

She stares at him, slightly startled by his inadvertent praise. He's staring at her so earnestly that she believes his sincerity.  _No one else will do_. She could feel her cheeks turning hot. She turns her head slightly away from him to gather her thoughts.

"Is this a trick?" she asks, bluntly.

"Do you really think that low of me?"

"Yes," she answers without a beat.***

Her quick answers bring a smile to his face.

"I understand your hesitation. We've been at odds even before we met, but I am hoping that perhaps we can bury the bad blood between us. Start anew."

The sincerity of his voice startles her and she stares at him in disbelief. He takes her hand and raises it to his lips. "Please consider it, Athena."

As she watches him disappear, she wonders how any sort of person can be as maddening as Ares. He is a puzzle with hidden compartments and booby traps and Athena is not quite she if the risk outweighs the satisfaction of solving him for her to pursue a solution.

In the span of a day she has lost Diomedes and gained the attentions of Ares. It feels like Atlas has turned the world upside down. She shakes her head as if that would put everything right. The gesture is futile. It would seem that the men in her life are bent on providing her with endless complications. She needs rest, she realizes. Proper rest. The kind that cannot be achieved by hanging about empty stadiums and arenas with her tumultuous thoughts for company.

 

Just as she gets up, she spots a familiar face that makes her freeze.

"I'm sorry, did I startle you?"

Aphrodite's face stares at her, but something was different about it. Athena knows her sister and while she cannot see any illusion, the girl standing before her was  _not_ Aphrodite, no matter what her outer appearance may look like.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Helen."

 

Ice water flows through Athena's veins at the sound of that name.

"My mistress wants me to deliver a message to you." In the most uncanny Aphrodite-like way, the girl smiles and says, "She wants you to know that  _your king is in check_."

xxxxxx

*Αντίο mean goodbye/farewell, but according to this: wiki/αντίο , it is also supposed to mean "to God" which can allude to how Diomedes states that the gods wanted Paris to have the bull.

**For those who are curious... here's what Ares's words mean:

Aγχω: to strangle, throttle, choke

Τέμνω: cut, incision

Aἰκία: torture, suffering

Ἀμνησία: amnesia, oblivion (in this case I mean to use it as a way Ares can stop his spell on the humans and make them forget what just happened to them)

You can find more words here: wiki/List_of_Greek_words_with_English_derivatives

*** A little nod to canon klaroline via episode 3x11, a.k.a. the only time I thought canon did klaroline right.


	9. An Important Author’s Note (and Apology)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest reader,
> 
> Many thanks to all of you that have reviewed, favorited, followed, or in any other way supported this fic. It truly means a lot to me that you enjoyed it and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to continue it. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve updated and I know many of you are still looking forward to another chapter. I’m sorry to say that since I’ve stopped watching Vampire Diaries, I’ve lost about all my motivation to continue this fic. That said, I had a lot of ideas for the story and where I wanted to it to go, so I decided I would share with you all some of the writing I had for the rest of the story. Lots of it is incomplete, stopping midsentence with plenty of typos. There’s also a few notes in there that I left for myself, plot outline and what not. Lines that I wrote that I liked, but didn’t quite know where to fit in, etc… It’s not at all a complete ending, but I thought some of you would enjoy having a little bit of closure. I would also be happy to answer questions on my tumblr (fadingtales) if you feel like you just need a bit more information. I won’t guarantee that I’ll be able to answer everything completely since the story never finished forming in my head. But I’ll be happy to provide any of my thoughts about where I had wanted the story to go. Thank you once again for being such loyal readers and again I’m sorry for not finishing. It’s just a very difficult thing to accomplish when you lose all motivation and your love for the show wanes. I hope you all understand and enjoy what I have to share.
> 
> Lots of love and thanks,  
> fadingtales

Athena recalls games of chess with her sister when they were younger. They used to play late into evening, sometimes outlasting even Apollo’s and Artemis’s stamina. Athena was naturally adept at the game and the victories were always in her favor. But Aphrodite’s stubbornness was a trait that had already manifested itself and despite the numerous losses, she pushed to play one more game. Always just one more. Their sisterly rivalry very much alive even back then. And even if the games grew long and increasingly spiteful, Athena never worried. She was confident in herself despite Aphrodite’s resilient stubbornness.

 

Until now.

 

The realization of her own hubris is crushing.

 

xxx

 

Her pulse is throbbing like war drums in her ears. She spots Aphrodite laughing and chatting with Artemis, looking the picture of innocence and ignorance. Marching up to her sister, Athena wrenches Aphrodite's arm backwards, yielding a yelp from the Goddess of Love.

 

“Ow! Unhand me you uncouthed boar!” Aphrodite shrieks, her face twisting in disdain.

 

Artemis looks shocked, but highly amused.

 

“I need to speak with you,” Athena growls back. Turning to look at Artemis, Athena barks, “in _private_.”

 

“Oh, I am not missing this cat fight for anything,” Artemis replies smugly, crossing her arms and settling herself to be as immovable as a statue.

 

“Go away, Artemis,” Aphrodite snarls. “Or I’ll tell Hermes about your little crush on him.”

 

“I do not!” Artemis protests despite the pinkening of her ears and cheeks.

 

Aphrodite arches her eyebrow at the huntress as if to say _“dare me to test that statement?”_ Artemis looks to Athena to continue her objections to the accusation, but the Goddess of Wisdom remains frosty and her eyes only for her sister.

 

The combination of the two sisters is enough to quell Artemis who snorts indignantly before reluctantly stomping off in a huff.

 

Athena waits until they are alone before she addresses Aphrodite again.

 

“Are you _mad_? Has all of that hair oil and face powder corrupted your brain? Or maybe your level of sadism has just leapt new bounds whilst I was unawares. Either one is the only explanation I can think of for using our _half-sister_ in your sick little games.”

 

Athena has Helen’s face memorized. So much like Aphrodite's, save for the subtle mortal flaws that make her distinctly _not_ Aphrodite. It’s the minor blemishes that are absent on the face of her true blooded goddess counterpart that make Helen all the more human. There was no doubts about it, she was one of Zeus’s mortal bastards. And if Hera should find out, there will be hell to pay.

 

“She’s under my protection,” Aphrodite drawls.

 

“Your protection won’t be enough if Hera finds her. Not to mention Zeus’s wrath once he finds out you’ve outed his indiscretion.  I get that you have a grudge against father and me, but why bring her into this? She’s an innocent.”

 

Aphrodite laughs a mirthless laugh. “Oh noble, virtuous Athena. Always defending others. That’s probably why Diomedes loves you so.”

 

Athena flinches at the mention of Diomedes.

 

“I hear he’s besotted by our little half-sister.”

 

Athena knows that Aphrodite is trying to get her riled and though she fights against the urge to be prickled by her sister’s taunts, she feels her hands turning to fists at her side.

 

“Does it hurt, Athena? To lose him to someone who can properly share his bed? Especially when that someone wears my face?”

 

Athena’s nails bites into her palms, her mouth a thin stern line.

 

Aphrodite tilts her head slightly to the side, “From the looks of it, you don’t look too happy. Have you two had a falling out perhaps? Maybe that’s for the better. I can’t imagine the agony you would go through if he invited you to his wedding day.”

 

Without warning Athena’s fist connects with Aphrodite’s cheek with enough force that sends the other goddess reeling backwards. Screaming, Aphrodite launches herself at her and they tumble to the floor in a tangle.

 

Aphrodite gets in a few good swipes, but she’s no match for Athena whose skill sets are specifically tuned to battle. After a good scramble, Athena pins Aphrodite to the marble floor, her thrashing body held down expertly by Athena with little effort. Other than the initial punch, Aphrodite bears no wounds, Athena had no real desire to hurt her sister and she is expert enough to do it. What she wanted was to embarrass and infuriate Aphrodite, to which she’s done successfully as proven by the streams of obscenities Aphrodite screams at her.

 

“You and Zeus! You both deserve it! You robbed me of my happiness, so why shouldn’t I rob you of yours?”

 

“You frame me, Aphrodite, for the messes you’ve made for yourself.”

 

Aphrodite rages at her, conjuring an audience. Among them are Ares, Poseidon and Hephaestus. No doubt all conveniently just strolling by after Artemis was so scornfully dismissed.

 

Upon seeing Aphrodite lying prone on the floor and Athena straddling her, Ares rushes forth.

 

“Get off of her!” Ares barks.

 

His sudden appearance makes Athena recoil and flush in embarrassment, as if she were a child being caught doing something naughty. She releases Aphrodite’s hands and leaps to her feet, backing several steps away for good measure. Aphrodite who, for once not looking graceful, scrambles to her feet with Ares’s arms wrapped around her for support.

 

“Are you alright?” Ares asks, his hand hover just above her belly.

 

“I’m fine,” Aphrodite bites out, flinching at his touch.

 

Ares quickly retracts his hand when he remembers their audience. He looks up and his eyes meets Athena’s then. She quickly looks away only to see Poseidon staring intently at the two illicit lovers. Beside him Hephaestus is stony faced, the look of his eyes impenetrable.

 

Aphrodite brushes herself off, regaining her posture.

 

“We just had a bit of a… disagreement is all,” the darker hair goddess proclaims.

 

Athena remains silent, choking on her embarrassment and indignity. Her hands are fists at her side, nails digging into her palms.

 

“I feel a bit weak. Ares, will you escort me home?” Aphrodite says, batting her eyes. You wouldn’t be able to tell that just moments ago she was shrieking on the marble floor.

 

Ares nods, his eyes still not moving from Athena’s, though she tries her best to not look back at him. How she wishes she could just disappear right now. She can’t stand the accusations in his eyes. Eventually he lets his gaze drop.

 

Through the corner of her eyes she could barely make out Ares’s nod to Aphrodite.

 

Holding Aphrodite by the hand, they pass Poseidon and Hephaestus without a glance. Unable to stand the silence left in their wake, Athena bolts out of the room.

 

For the moment, her humiliation eclipses all other matters. She lets the wave of self-pity erase her thoughts of Helen and Diomedes and Zeus and Hera. She can only think of the sight of Ares’s arms around Aphrodite and the way he had looked at her. Her face burns in shame. She had let anger overwhelm her and she disgraced herself.

 

She wants to sob, cry, scream into the wind, but all she manages to do is bury her face into the crooks of her arms, tears leaking in silent protest. What has overcome her? She prided herself the embodiment of grace and wisdom and yet only now has she realized what a beast she has become, green eyed and self-righteous. She proclaims to fight on behalf of Helen, on behalf of Diomedes and the mortals, but in the end it was all about-

 

“I’ve been looking for you.”

 

His voice startles her and she jumps back in shock, hastily wiping her eyes for evidence of tearshed.

 

Ares stood before her, his expression unreadable.

 

“I-I thought you were taking Aphrodite home.”

 

“After we left your presence she acted well enough to fend for herself,” Ares answered dryly.

 

“She should, I restrained myself from breaking both her arms,” Athena bites out. She regrets her haste immediately after. She knows she’s being spiteful, but even now she cannot help herself.

 

Ares chuckled and nodded. “I’m sure you did, though her eye looks like it will bruise.”

 

“Nothing a bit of her vanity magic won’t hide.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll figure something out,” Ares agrees.

 

“Why are you here? Won’t she be angry with you if you’re not there with her, fawning over her wounds?”

 

“

  


She doesn’t hear Poseidon, stealthy as he is, sidle up besides her.

 

“I’ve made a fool of myself,” Athena says, finally registering his silent presence.

 

Poseidon says nothing, neither contradicting or agreeing with her. His gaze forever on the horizon.

 

“I wish myself not as petty as I am, but I hate her,” Athena says aloud, slightly shocked at her own words.

 

Poseidon turns to her then.

 

“And hating her makes me only hate myself all the more.”

 

The words bubble forth like a waterfall. She feels unable to contain it any longer. Gripping the banister she leans forwards and screams. Suddenly all the weight of everything she’s ignored from shame comes rushing forth. Diomedes, Helen, Hera, Zeus, _Ares_ , everything. Her screams turns into sobs.

 

Poseidon grips her arms and turns her to them. She inhales a deep breath, closing her eyes before she can open them and face him.

 

“Do I look pathetic to you?”

 

Poseidon shakes his head. “You look heart broken.”

 

Something about the way his voice cracks at the end of the sentence makes her realize he understands her feelings completely.

 

Brusquely wiping away her tears with the back of her hands, she regains her composure. She turns back to the horizon, balling her hands into fists.

 

“I am done being broken,” she states. Turning to him she says, “Aphrodite has gotten away with too much. I cannot stand by any longer and watch as she destroy lives for her own amusement. I don’t claim to know your feelings towards her, but I must ask you to not interfere.”

 

“You sound convicted.”

 

“I cannot claim that my own personal biases are at play, but Aphrodite’s actions have rippling effects on innocent bystanders. I need her to stop.”

 

Poseidon extends his hand and tips her chin upwards in an oddly endearing gesture.

“You are young, Athena, and, as the years go by, time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain therefore a while from setting yourself up as a judge of the highest matters.[i]”

 

[i] A quote by Plato. The original reads, “You are young, my son, and, as the years go by, time will change and even reverse many of your present opinions. Refrain therefore a while from setting yourself up as a judge of the highest matters.”

  
  
  
  


“You want a wedding? Fine. I just have one condition.”

 

From behind her back she pulls out a golden mask.

 

xxx

 

The wedding of Aphrodite and Hephaestus is deck out in gold and ivory. Curtains of spun gold cascade down from the ceiling like waterfalls. Ivory tables line the halls. To say it was extravagant would be an understatement.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“To the fairest!”

 

The roll of the apple seems to echo as it lands just into the middle of the circle comprised of Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera.

  


xxx

 

xxx

 

Hephaestus looks at her, a moment too long. It makes her uncomfortable, the intensity of his stare and so she turns away.

 

“It’s late… I should retire,” she says, turning away.

 

His hand snatches out and pulls her back. His pull so sudden she stumbles against him.

 

“Don’t go yet,” Hephaestus whispers, leaning forward to kiss her.

 

Athena turns her cheek at the last moment, the stench of ambrosia and wine thick on Hephaestus’s breath, it clings to her nostrils.

 

“I think you’ve had too much to drink,” she chides softly.

 

She turns back to look at Hephaestus and is startled to see the anger in his eyes. He tries again to kiss her, but she pushes him away more forcefully this time.

 

“Hephaestus, stop. You’re drunk and upset.”

 

“Don’t pretend to play the virgin, Athena. We all know that Dionysus spilled your virgin’s blood.. And I hear you were eager to spread your legs to the likes of Ares, as well. You’re more like your sister than you’d care to admit.”

 

Hephaestus takes a step towards her and she slaps him, hard enough to make his head turn.

 

“How dare you!”

 

He retaliates by grabbing her wrists and shoving her towards the bed at the center of the room. The situation was escalating too quickly. Before she can push herself up, Hephaestus was upon her.

 

“Hephaestus, stop! You’re not yourself!”

 

“What? Do even you, Athena, reject me now? Is it because I’m a cripple? Not good enough for you? I’ll show you how much of a man I can still be.”

 

Despite his handicap, Hephaestus is strong. His muscles like the iron that he welds. His hands pins her against the bed.

 

Athena’s heart hammers in her chest as she struggles to push him off. Her strength, however, is no match for his.

 

“Aphrodite thinks she can make a fool of me. And it seems like you do, too.”

 

“I’ve done no such thing!” Athena screams.

 

His hands are creeping up her skirt and her eyes are widening in shock. This couldn’t be happening.

 

“You and your sister. You all mock me! Well, I’m done with that.”

  


Ares goes stiff, his eyes taking in the scene: Athena with her clothes and hair in disarray, wielding an iron poker in her hands, the tip red hot, and Hephaestus at the opposite end, bearing a nasty gash across his cheek, his robes on the floor.

 

“A-Ares,” Athena’s voice is soft and hoarse, as if she had been screaming. Somehow hearing his name uttered from her lips makes Ares’s vision turn red.

 

Without warning he launches himself against Hephaestus, knocking the other man to the floor. His fists connecting with Hephaestus’s face. Once, twice, three times. He’s sure he’s broken his fingers, but the pain only fuels him on.

 

“Ares, stop!”

 

He can feel Athena’s hands on him, pulling him backwards.

 

“I will _kill_ him,” he vows, biding her no mind.

 

Hephaestus’s face is a bloody mess, his body limp.

 

“

  
  


xxx

 

“Had I been the one to choose, I would’ve easily know who to give the apple to.”

 

Athena scoffs, “Spare me. I already know that Aphrodite deserves the apple.”

 

“Why do you think I’d choose her?”

 

_Because you already have_ , she thinks. “Because look at her. And look at me. I don’t consider myself ugly, but how can I compete with the goddess of love and _beauty_. I only made such a ruckus because she annoyed me and I was being petty. I know my beauty is not the same as hers.”

 

“You’re right,” Ares says. “Your beauty is not the same as hers.”

 

It stings to have him agree, even if she knows he’s only admitting the truth. It’s one thing to know it herself, but for him to confirm it, it broke her heart. And here she thought it was already broken enough. She turns away from him quickly to hide the tears that have unwillingly budded.

 

His hand reaches out and turns her back around. His touch so gentle it made everything worse.

 

“Did you know that when you cry, your eyes look like Poseidon’s sapphire seas?”

 

She reaches her hand up to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand, but he beats her to it. He brushes away her teardrops with his thumbs. They’re slightly rough and calloused, but they’re warm and the friction is comforting against her skin.

 

“And did you know that your cheeks, when flushed, are the color roses envy? It’s a loveliness that even Demeter would be unable to conjure in spring.”

 

He cups her face with his right hand. His eyes travel down to her lips and her brushes them slightly with his fingers. “And your lips, do you know how much I yearn to taste them? Tantalus knows no thirst as strong as mine for your lips.”

 

Her breath hitches in her throat and his eyes look upwards again to meet hers.

 

“And yet all these things are not what makes you beautiful,” he says with a wry smile.

 

“You’re beautiful when you’re caught up in an argument, your nose all crinkled and a frown creasing your forehead,” his hand lightly taps her forehead.

 

“ You’re beautiful when you’ve got a sword in your hand and tip of it at my throat,” his hand sweeps down, fingers skating lightly over the column of her neck.

 

“ You’re beautiful when you purse your lips in concentration as you ponder over a puzzle,” he cups her chin and smoothes his thumb over her lips.

 

“ And you’re beautiful when your eyes light up with you’ve figured out the answer.” His eyes meets hers then, the sincerity in them blazing.

 

“All these things are more beautiful than your eyes, cheeks and lips.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I wish to kiss you,” he bends his head down, presses his mouth against the column of her neck, “here.” His kisses moves downwards, lingering against her collarbone. Her mouth parts with the sensation. “And make worship on your body.”

 

He writes words onto her skin with his tongue.

 

She runs her fingers down his spine, tracing each notch, and then counting them with her lips.

  
  


Words and logic which have always been her constant and reliable companions fails her in his presence.

 

“I am always struck speechless with you,” she tells him.

 

“Now we both know that is a lie,” he says with a chuckle. “The whiplash I get from your verbal stings still act up sometimes.”

 

She permits herself to smile a little at that.

 

“I never mean to say the things I want to say.”

 

His expression softens and he takes a careful step closer to her.

 

“What do you wish to tell me?”

 

“

 

“I would give up eternity to know your thoughts.”

 

She turns to leave, but his hand stays her. They are once more replaying the same old dance.

 

“Why do you always stop me?”

 

“Why do you always have to run?” he counters.

 

“Perhaps because I want you to chase me,” she says, her eyes filling with unbidden tears.

 

He smiles and wipes away the droplets with his thumbs.

 

“Then I shall chase. It’s seems like what we’re good at. You can run and I can chase and we can continue on like this for several centuries or more. Because we’re immortals, we have the time. And so long as I have my legs intact I will chase you.”

 

“What if I get tired of running? What if I don’t want to run any more?” There’s melancholia in her tone.

 

“Then I’ll find another activity for you to do,” he replies with a smirk.

  
  
  


“Diomedes, please. I beg you to reconsider.”

 

“I’m sorry, Helen,” he says, shaking his head. “But I cannot. I cannot put my people through war.”

 

“Sparta and my _father_ would not stand for this. You do realize that? You do realize what it means if you do not declare allegiance to Sparta against the Persians, do you not?” her voice is cracked with desperation. “You would lose me, Diomedes. My father will never allow us to marry! And still you stand by your decision?”

 

Diomedes takes on a pained expression and her turns his back to her, feeling his eyes stinging with tears he dares not shed.

 

“... Yes,” his voice comes out choked and raspy.

 

Diomedes dares not turn around for he feared seeing the look on Helen’s face. Heavy silence hangs between them, drawn out for what seems like ages. Finally he hears the sounds of retreating footsteps and soon pure silence. She was gone. He had lost her.

 

Greco-Persian war, Diomedes decides to stay neutral (loses Helen’s hand). <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greco-Persian_Wars>

  


“This is a foolish war.”

 

“Are not all wars foolish?” Diomedes answers. “You know I cannot defect this time, Athena. I’ve already done it once, when I thought it was for the greater good of people, but this time... “

 

He gives her a sad smile before turning to the balcony to face his people. WIth hands upraised, he silences them.

 

“Argives! Today the Trojans have declared war on all of Greece.”

 

Athena turns away, not bother listening to Diomedes’s speech. She’s already heard it a thousand times. She knows what the result will be. Amongst the clamor and the ruckus of the crowd she spots him off to the side.

 

He may not be dressed in his usual finery, but she’d recognize him anywhere. His image has already been burned into her mind. It’s his face that she sees behind her eyelids when she closes her eyes.

 

“ _Ares_...” she whispers inaudibly.

 

She doubts anyone can hear her almost silent plea, but he meets her eyes. They stare at one another across the distance. She sees him clench his jaw, in that familiar way of his. See how his expression shifts ever so slightly, knows that he’s come to a resolute decision and watches as he disappears into the ocean of bodies.

 

She closes her eyes, trying to keep him there, if only in her mind. She opens them again and sees Diomedes extend his hand to her. She takes it and he brings it to his lips to place a kiss across her knuckles.

 

She smiles at him and when he leads her by the hand out of the obscurity of the curtain, the crowd roars at her appearance.

 

“ _Thank you, Athena_ ,” Diomedes says to her. “With you besides me, victory shall be ensured. I will end this war. I promise.”

 

Once again she smiles at him before turning back to the crowd. They’ve already started chanting her name. _Athena._ Goddess of Wisdom, Goddess of Victory.

 

If she is the Goddess of Victory then why does she feel so defeated?

  


____________

  


She turns to walk away, but his voice calls her back.

 

“Don’t go to him.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t go to him and I promise to withdraw from the battlefield. If you go to him I can’t promise you his safety. It’s your choice.”

 

“This is not a game. You cannot make me choose, Ares. ”

 

“Why not? It’s easy.”

 

“ _Easy_ ,” she repeats. “We are dealing with the fates of millions of lives.”

 

“I would sacrifice a million more if it means you will come to my side.”

 

“That’s insanity. To pass judgement so frivolously-”

 

“We are gods. We pass judgment everyday,” he growls.

She shakes her head in disbelief.

 

“If you are truly making me choose then you are a lesser man that I thought you were.”

  


“ _Iskhýs mou hē agápē toû laoû._

"The people's love [is] my strength.“

  
  


“I understand that you are brave and you seek justice, but do not flirt with danger. Ares is more complex than you give him credit for. And it would not due to venture further with this relationship with him. It would only further complicate our already complicated family.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be taking your own advice?” she says.

 

“Yeah... I really should.”

 

He looks a bit defeated then, his calm expression faltering. She frowns, a little thrown off by his subtle behavior.

 

“Why... why Aphrodite?” she asks cautiously. “To be honest, I just don’t think she’s your type.”

 

He laughs. “And what do you think is my type exactly?”

 

Athena shrugs sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed for no real reason other than she’s discussing types her uncle was into. Her rather dashing and handsome young uncle. Who is also sleeping with her sister. Just another day in Olympus.

 

Poseidon gives her a small smile. “I care for her. Though I know I am not alone in that regard... I am aware of Aphrodite’s reputation and of her men.

  


xxx

 

“I must go with Paris? But why?”

 

“Because I said so.”

 

“But what about Menelaus and Diomedes-”

 

“Forget about them. I am commanding you to go with Paris now,” Aphrodite says, waving her hand dismissively.

 

“And what if I don’t want to go?”

 

Aphrodite pauses from what she is doing and looks up at her doppelganger.

 

“Diomedes...” There is a slight, shy smile on Helen’s lips. “I think I am in love with him.”

 

Aphrodite whirls on her, eyes blazing.

 

“You do not _think_ and you do not _love_. You are but a creature of clay that has been formed in my image.”

 

Helen shakes her head resolutely, but Aphrodite advances on her. The goddess presses her hand against the girl’s cheek and then holds it up for Helen to see. Brown dirt smudged Aphrodite’s hand where she rubbed Helen’s tear soaked cheeks.

 

“You see? Mud and clay.”

 

More tears leak from Helen’s eyes, staining her cheeks with brown sediment tracks.

 

“Do not cry,” Aphrodite tells her, her voice is almost sympathetic. “You will fall apart if you do.”

 

Aphrodite reaches out and brushes away the stains on Helen’s cheeks.

 

“You’re beautiful, you know. You could have the world at your feet.”

 

“I am only beautiful because _you_ are beautiful. And I have no use for the world when my feet are in shackles.”

 

“

 

“I may be made of clay... but I am also made of _you_. My feelings and my soul are born from yours.”

 

Aphrodite turns away and pretends to not hear her double’s words.

 

xxx

 

xxx

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


xxx

 

“I could kill you.” He says it with such ease, as if he was announcing the weather, but Diomedes knew the god meant it. He was God of War, after all. And after Hades, Ares is responsible for thousand souls into the bowels of the underworld.

 

“It would be easy,” Ares continues. “Like snuffing out a candle.” Ares waves his hand casually to emphasize.

 

xxx

 

He was Ares. Reckless, cruel, and careless of the fates of men under his command. He was the God of War, but it was violence that ruled him. He lived for it, the warrior’s glory. And every time he stepped into the ring, she held her breath. Logic told her that he was immortal and invulnerable, but that was no quite true. Even gods can be wounded. The proof lies in the scars he’s left on her heart. For how can the Goddess of Wisdom be so foolish as to fall in love with the God of War?

 

“In some other place, in some other time, we would be together. But we are Gods. Happy endings are left for the mortals.”

 

“You’ve said before that we are water and oil... but don’t you know, Athena? Fire can still burn on top of water if there is oil.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"If your own mind is set upon going home—go—the way is open to you; the many ships that followed you from Mycene stand ranged upon the seashore; but the rest of us stay here till we have sacked Troy. Nay though these too should turn homeward with their ships, Sthenelus and myself will still fight on till we reach the goal of Ilius,” He paused in his speech, just for a moment, and looked up at her. “for heaven was with us when we came."*

 

*<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diomedes>

  
  


_Nenikḗkamen, Athena._ "We have won."

 

xxx

 

“... I should’ve known better. Argos is your patron city.”

 

Hera smiles, a cruel and wicked gesture.

 

“Yes, indeed it is.”

 

“Is that why you hate me? You thought I was encroaching on your territory?”

 

Hera shrugs, her movements smooth, fluid, and elegant, and she sinks into her divan.

 

“It _is_ about territory, but one city means very little to me. Although, I must say, that it made spying on you much easier. There are many of my worshippers in that city.”

 

Athena swallows, mentally berating herself for not having the foresight to piece this together.

 

“But no, this is not over Argos. I care not about your blatant favoritism for the young Argive king. In fact, I would have preferred it. It would have kept you away from Ares.”

 

So that was it. Ares.

 

“

  


xxx

  
  


“I will stay away from him. I will not seek him out, I will not speak to him, nor will I touch him. We will be strangers.”

 

“Athena, no,” Ares pleads.

 

She ignores him. “I swear this to you. If you heal him, I promise that I never see him ever again.”

 

“And what if I let him bleed out? You won’t be able to see him if he is dead.”

 

“If you let him bleed out, then I will _never_ speak to you again, father. I will renounce you as my father. And I will go to the Fates and give up my immortality.”

 

“Athena!” Ares protests, but she continues to ignore him.

 

“You would give up your god-ness for _him_?” Zeus bellows, incredulously.

 

“Yes.” Her answer is absolute and without hesitation.

 

“Athena, _don’t_ ,” Ares tries again.

  


Zeus stares at his daughter. “You drive a hard bargain, Athena.”

 

“

 

“Can I have a moment to say good-bye?”

 

Zeus clenches his jaw, but nods his head. His robes billow as he turns and walk away. As soon as he is out of sight, Athena go to Ares, kneeling down besides him and pulling his head into her lap.

 

“You tried to kill me and then you go and blackmail Zeus to save me. I will never understand what goes on in a woman’s mind.”

 

She laughs despite the tears running down her cheeks. “Don’t waste our good-bye with pondering about it too long.”

 

Ares reaches a hand up to touch her face, bloody from the wound in his stomach. The wound that she helped make when she guided Diomedes’ spear. The blood smears on her cheek, mingles with her tears.

 

“I would not mind dying in your arms,” he says with a sigh.

 

“Hush, I will not have you make my efforts go to waste.”

 

“Then what should I say? I already feel like I am dying.”

 

She leans down and presses her lips against his, tasting salt and iron.

 

“Then don’t say anything at all,” she whispers. “Just kiss me good-bye.”

 

And so he pulls her down towards him once again and he kisses her. For the last time.

  
  
  
  


xxx

 

"two paths lay before me. One leads to war and the other martial ruin. Both are impossible situations. So tell me, Athena ... How can I choose?"

 

"There is no easy answer, my poor Diomedes."

 

"then tell me the difficult one."

 

Diomedes shares at her, his expression desolate and pleading.

 

"You will not like what I have to say," she says warily.

 

"I like nothing of this conundrum, but deal with it I must."

 

"the fact of the matter is that Argos may not survive a war with Persia. At least not right now. Your peoples morale remains shaken by the treachery of the failed coup led by your counselor.

They will resent you for declaring war,” she pauses to watch Diomedes pace before her. “These are the facts, Diomedes. I can only advise you so much. What does your heart tell you?"

 

"It tells me I neither want to go to war nor lose helen's favor."

 

"then you must reach down deep within yourself and decide which you love more. "

  
  


"Helen has left. Her retinue departed before dawn."

 

He doesn't turn to address her. His eyes trained toward rhe ??east??, the direction of sparta where helen has gone.

 

"i am sorry... I knew that you loved her"

 

Diomedes looks at her then, his expression pained. He looks haggard, dark shadows lines his eyes. And most of all he looks desolate. Moreso than she has ever seen him.

 

"love," he repeats. "yes...i suppose i did. I had thought she could be my queen. Be my shoulder upon which to rest, share my bed, be mother to my heirs and be the one to mourn my death."

 

Athena felt a lump form in her throat. She had been biased in her advice because of her petty jealousy of the mortal helen. She had bore too much resemblance to aphrodite for comfort and Most of all she was mortal. A thing athena could never endeavor to be. Helen would be able to marry diomedes, rule by his side, grow old, and die. All of which escapes Athena.

 

His lips curl into a smile, but it was one without warmth or humor.

 

"but in the end it seems to have been an impossible love. You would have thought i would be used to those by now. After all, i have loved you for more than i have fingers enough to count. I think I’ve loved you my whole life. "

 

His confession, said so casually, takes her off guard. she stares at him blankly, incapable of forming a coherent response.

 

"and what is more impossible than a mortal in love with a goddess?"

 

"Dio, i-"

 

He turns abruptly away from her.

 

"no!" he shouts at her, his anger suddenly flaring" Don't call me that. That was the nickname of a little boy. I am a king. Dont," his voice softens "dont say anything. I have already lost one woman i love tonight. I will not lose another."

 

Athena walks slowly to him, her hands outreached, but she stops mere inches away.

 

“Tell me what I can do to ease your pain,” she says.

 

“Can you give up your immortality?” What he means to say is, _can you be my wife?_

  
“You break my heart, Diomedes.”

 

Diomedes nods, not arguing. “And you break mine.”

 

xxx

  
  


Haephaestus tries to rape athena after being rejected bt aphrodite and discovering her supposed affair w ares. When athena defends ares he gets angry and tries to force himself on her. He is drunk from wine given tp him by hera. Athena is able to savw herself but ares witnesses it and nearly kills hephaestus. Zeus finds out and is enraged w ares believing he is the instigator. Athena goes after ares and they have a moment.

 

"i hope you didnt mind, but i took the liberty of correcting ypur work.

 

He glances down at tje pieces upon his desk. The links he has tries so hard to pry apart. The puzzle that has has agonized for days. Solved.

 

A scrawled note, in her handwriting, lies beside it.

 

"Some things require more than stubborn brute force to solve. They require time and patience."

 

And more so than anything else she has done. more than her strength, which surpasses that of a hundred men. More than her beauty, which puts the stars to shame. It was her cleverness, her pure brilliance that awes him most. He looks down at the solved puzzle, shaken by the pure unadulterated affection he held for her. She has never been so desirable.

  
  
  
  


“Did you ever think that things would’ve turned out differently if they were in love with other people?”

 

“I don’t think Ares and Athena are capable of being in love with anybody else,” Aphrodite replies.

  


From her vantage point above, Aphrodite watched the Argive king. So many lives lost, hearts broken, her own included.

 

He glanced up at the sky, towards Olympus, and answered, “The city will be named Aphrodisia.”

 

xxx

 

Epilogue:

 

“I am not in the mood to speak to you, Aphrodite.”

 

“That’s good because I am not Aphrodite.”

 

His head jerks up and he looks at her, really looks at her, this time. Her hair may be darker and her skin more olive than porcelain, but he’d recognize her all the same.

 

“ _Athena_.”

 

“The disguise is for Zeus’s benefit,” she explains. “Aphrodite has help me concoct a loophole in my promise with our liege.”

 

He’s staring at her so intently it makes her blush.

 

“Does this form bother you?”

 

He answers by taking two swift steps towards her and sweeping her into his arms, his lips pressed urgently against her lips.

 

“It matters to me not what form you’re in, so long as I may kiss you. You could come in the form of an owl if you’d like and I would not utter a single word of complaint,” he whispers, his forehead pressed to hers.

 

“Well, beaks make it awfully difficult to kiss,” she grins.

 

“

 

“Zeus will send us both to opposite corners of Hell if he finds out,” Athena whispers.

 

“He knows not of Hell. Hell is not the fiery pit where Hades resides. It isn’t even Prometheus’s sentence, chained to a rock and forever feasted upon by eagles and vultures. Those things mean nothing to me. Hell is being alive and knowing that you can never be by my side. If you ask me if I can live without you then I’d tell you yes. Yes, I can live without you. Because for hundreds and thousands of years I have done so without you. But to do so now that I know your love, it would be to live in agony. And that’s what my hell is.”

  


*A quote from the Spartan poet Tyrtaeus. <http://www.ancientgreekbattles.net/Pages/47931_Spartaquotes.htm>

 

<http://greece.mrdonn.org/olympics.html#MEGARA>

<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Greek_phrases>

 

χαλεπὰ τὰ καλά

_Khalepà tà_ [ _kalá_ ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kalos_kagathos)

"The good/beautiful things [are] difficult [to attain]."

"Naught without labor."

  1. [Plato](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plato),[Republic](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Republic_%28dialogue%29) 4, 435c.



  


PLOT OUTLINE

 

Helen is a statue of Aphrodite that Hera had breathed into life. It is Hera’s attempt to seem helpful to Aphrodite after discovering her pregnancy. Knowing that Aphrodite is pregnant when Zeus has just betrothed her to Hephaestus would incur Zeus’s wrath. So together, Hera and Aphrodite concocted a plan to have him be raised by Helen. Her mirrored appearance with Aphrodite will ensure the child will recognize its mother when it becomes time for Aphrodite to take him back. As part of Aphrodite’s resentment towards Athena for her predicament, she wishes to have Helen marry Diomedes so that Athena would be heartbroken and deprived of her favorite mortal (thinking that Athena truly loves Diomedes). Hera meanwhile plots to undermine Aphrodite’s schemes while pretending to be her ally. She had sacrificed one of her own priestesses (the one that was raped) so that Paris could take his place in the tournament and punish Diomedes for allowing his city to worship Athena over her during the tournament (Argos was supposed to be Hera’s patron city).

 

Aeneas is actually the son of Aphrodite and Poseidon. Their affair had gone undetected by Zeus because Poseidon stole the identity of the Dardanian prince  Anchises. He is unaware until after the Trojan war when Aphrodite is wounded trying to save the boy. He threatens Hera after he finds out, knowing that she had plotted this complicated scheme just because of her jealousy against Zeus’s daughters.

 

Paris is actually plotting against Argos, his father having poisoned Diomedes’ father. He had hoped to humiliate Diomedes in the tournament to lower the Argive’s morale so they would be weak for Troy to invade. They wished to take over the Greeks (ironically it will be Aenaes, as “father” of the Romans, to achieve this task.) Paris instead becomes obsessed with possessing Helen as a prize and gets sidetracked, fails to beat Diomedes despite his sabotage of his chariot.

 

Trojans want to conquer argos and are the ones who assassinated diomedes father. Paris will attempt to kill diomedes during chariot chase and Diomedes’s advisor will be the one colluding w him. They originally plotted to sabotage one of the other contestants earlier so that paris could take his place but the athenian rape happened which sped up their plan. Paris is besotted w helen and ends up risking it all to possess her. A prime example of hubris.

 

After the tournament is over, Zeus is impatient with Aphrodite and expedites the wedding of Aphrodite and Hephaestus. To incur more chaos, Hera purposely omits the god Eris’s invitation. Angered, Eris shows up and throws the apple of discord on the table, proclaiming it for the “fairest one”. Athena and Aphrodite are both in the midst of a fiery rivalry (Athena resentful that Ares is still with Aphrodite) and both leap for the apple. Hera decides to throw herself in the ring out of pure arrogance as Queen of the Gods.

 

While Aphrodite is preoccupied with the apple, Tyndareus is overwhelmed by the suitors for Helen’s hand, a daughter that had seemed to appear overnight and gained world wide fame with her beauty. He was previously enchanted by Aphrodite to act and think according to her whims. He initially is warm towards the idea of an allegiance with Diomedes, but then the Greco-Persian war breaks out. Diomedes, as a new king decides to be neutral and earns Tyndareus’s wrath. He decides to hold a contest to marry Helen off instead (rigging it so that Diomedes would not be able to win), and she goes to Menelaus.

 

Greco-Persian war, Diomedes decides to stay neutral (loses Helen’s hand). <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greco-Persian_Wars>

 

Aphrodite finds out about Helen’s marriage and is enraged, but when Zeus announces that rather than coming up with the winner of the apple himself, he has randomly assigned it to the mortal Paris, she uses the opportunity to make Helen elope with Paris.

 

Hephaestus, angry at Aphrodite’s infidelity, lashed out instead on Athena. He tries to force himself on her, convinced that her kindness towards him was something more. Athena is able to thwart his advances, but Ares walks in and nearly kills Hephaestus in anger. Athena and Ares fight.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


How does Athena find out about Hera????? -> Discovers the nature of Helen, puts the pieces together that only Hera, as goddess of Marriage, Women and Birth, has the power to give life to inanimate things.

 

Hera wants to pit the sisters against one another because of her resentment towards Zeus’s favoritism to them. Didn’t expect Ares to get involved with either two.

 

Helen is actually a clay statue of Aphrodite that Hera blew life into. She is a pawn that Hera uses to continue to drive a wedge between the Aphrodite and Athena.

 

Hera had hoped that the Trojan War would relinquish Ares’s affections for Athena and give him purpose again (he is deemed an obsolete and useless god in times of peace and she wished to grant him glory in the eyes of Zeus).

 

When it proves impossible to erase Ares’s love for Athena, Hera takes away Athena’s ability to conceive. This is why she has no offspring and is considered the Virgin Goddess.

 

Ares, angry and ignorant of Athena’s infliction, continues to wage war. He is in his element and finds purpose in the bloodlust. In order to stop the bloodshed and mortal casualties, Athena conspires with Diomedes to stop him.

 

Athena barters with Zeus to convince him to heal Ares from the near fatal wound she, herself, inflicted upon him.

 

Aphrodite, realizing that she has been Hera’s puppet all along, uses her powers to allow Athena to borrow her form, that way she may visit Ares without incurring Hera’s or Zeus’s wrath. The sisters reconcile.

 

Ares, finding out Hera’s manipulation of the whole thing confronts her. He had never cared about gaining Zeus’s good favor, he had always only sought hers. She was his mother and he wanted to make her proud of him. He breaks off relations with her then, realizing he needs to seek no one’s approval, but his own.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Whew this thing took forever to write and there IS more coming. I don't know how parts the prequel will end up being, but I'm also planning a sequel that comes after the Klaroline moment in "IN LOVE AND WAR" and it takes place during the Trojan war. I think I'm just way too invested in this greek gods AU. So bare with me and my obsession. Any and all feedback is welcome! I'm a vain creature and I need to be fed praise or at least good useful critique to keep going.


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